


I Wish I Knew the Good of Wishing

by Buchstabensuppe



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canon Disabled Character, Developing Relationship, Homelessness, Italian Food, M/M, Magic, Minor Character Death, Nightmares, Thomas' dad is now a mage, Violence, Wishing, as is Dufresne I guess? :D, pain relief through acupressure, rally against the government, slow burn kinda, tags are a work in progress here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-02-16 03:22:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13045455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buchstabensuppe/pseuds/Buchstabensuppe
Summary: It was a plain brass pendant on a broken chain, worthless according to the pawnbroker he’d once tried to sell it to in an act of utter desperation. But inside the piece of jewellery, behind a pane of clear glass, a lock of hair was pinned on a bed of green velvet that contrasted its rich copper colour beautifully. Ever since he’d found the thing as a child, Silver had wondered how old it might be and whom that hair had once belonged to.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dancing_satyr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancing_satyr/gifts).



> Title quoted from Henry S. Leigh. This is VERY loosely based on the children's book "Das Sams" by German author Paul Maar. I don't expect many of you to know it, because to my knowledge it was never published in English. It's basically about the magic of Flint's freckles. Literally.

The fierce winter wind seemed to have blown away the last warmth remaining in Silver’s clothes. His teeth chattered in unison with the busy steps of people hurriedly passing him by on their way home or to do the last shopping before the weekend. Occasionally one of them paused to throw some money into the dented tin can in front of him. Mostly these impromptu benefactors were gone before the tinkling of copper coins had ceased, taking their pitying and sometimes even slightly disgusted faces back with them into the faceless crowd.

Silver reluctantly freed his hands, which he’d tucked deep into the sleeves of his parka to keep them warm, and emptied the can. It was not much, not even enough for a quick shower at the station. With a sigh Silver realized he would’ve to go to the soup kitchen, if he wanted to eat tonight. But the others would also be there, and he really had no stomach for their company lately.

He tucked the money safely away and put the can back on the pavement in front of him. Maybe he would’ve better luck if he waited another hour?

His fingers brushed the smooth surface of the medallion in his pocket and he took it out to examine the familiar oval object. It was a plain brass pendant on a broken chain, worthless according to the pawnbroker he’d once tried to sell it to in an act of utter desperation. But inside the piece of jewellery, behind a pane of clear glass, a lock of hair was pinned on a bed of green velvet that contrasted its rich copper colour beautifully. Ever since he’d found the thing as a child, Silver had wondered how old it might be and whom that hair had once belonged to. He rubbed it now, for luck, and was just going to put it back in his coat, when a shadow fell upon him.

It was a man around 50 or 60 with chin-long grey hair and restless eyes filled with mistrust. A cat was prowling around his ankles, purring contentedly.

„Get up!“, the man snarled, and Silver realized it must be the owner of the little pet shop in front of which he had situated himself. For a second he was too benumbed with surprise and cold to move.

„Are you deaf?“, the man growled impatiently. „Don’t want no dossers in front of my shop. Move your arse away from here!“

„Whoa!“ Silver raised both hands in a conciliating gesture. „Easy, man. I don’t want any trouble. The shop was closed earlier, so I…“ He got interrupted by a small but hard head poking persistently into his left hip. The cat had left its owner’s side and was now rubbing against Silver, purring even louder.

„Betsy!“, the man cried with a tinge of surprised betrayal colouring his voice. „Come back here right fuckin‘ now!

Silver used the distraction to gather his stuff and hoist himself up on his crutch. And maybe, just maybe, he did enjoy the bastard’s dumbfounded face when he realized he’d yelled at an invalid just a tiny bit too much. 

Before his opponent could think of something to say though, Silver had left him standing there, hopping down the street as fast as he dignifiedly could.

  
***  


The soup kitchen was blessedly warm and filled with the aroma of cooked potatoes and grease. Silver took a deep breath while he made his way through the lines of tables to the serving counter. He’d just taken a few steps, when he heard someone call his name and, turning around, found himself facing a table full of familiar faces. Muldoon, who’d been the one calling him, beckoned him closer, while DeGroot and Joji squeezed up to make place for him on the bench.

„Sit down, Silver. I was getting up anyway“, Muldoon said patting his shoulder, and was already headed to Billy, one of the volunteers passing out the food today.

„Brr, you’re bringing a bloody cold draft with you“, old DeGroot noted and pulled a woollen blanket from his shoulders. „Here, boy. We wouldn’t want you to freeze to death, now, would we?“

„You can have my share, Silver. I’m full as a tick“, Ben declared and put his half eaten portion of potato soup in front of Silver without even waiting for an answer and seemingly oblivious to the fact that Muldoon was already coming back to their table carrying a bowl filled to the brim with steaming hot soup.

Silver sighed inwardly. He knew for a fact that Ben had never felt ‚full as a tick‘ in his whole life and that DeGroot was in much bigger need for the warmth because of his rheumatism than himself, but he‘d long since given up the attempt to reason with them. Ever since Silver – then a young college student working nightshifts in a bad neighbourhood to pay his rent – had one night saved Muldoon’s life, this close knit group of homeless people saw him as some kind of saint. Muldoon himself was the worst, calling it a debt of honour as if Silver had been his fucking brother-in-arms or something.

Granted, Silver had indeed lost everything but his mere life by stepping in when those two drunken arseholes with the baseball bat had threatened to crush the man’s skull. Because when they’d been done laughing about Silver’s naive take on heroism, they had crushed something else instead. When he’d woken up at the hospital, he’d been short a leg, short a job and in horrendous debt, causing him to lose his room at the university on top of everything else. Ever since then he’d been living on the street, because no one wanted to employ a disabled homeless guy.

Muldoon though had never left his side during those dark first days, and had persisted on taking Silver with him to the soup kitchen where he‘d introduced him to his group of friends. When they‘d heard Silver had stood up for one of them, they‘d not hesitated to take him in, and for that he’d always be grateful, but sometimes the special attention they granted him simply set his teeth on edge. He’d always been independent; it had been necessary to survive a childhood in the system. Being cared for and worried over to such an amount wasn’t something he’d ever experienced before and, frankly, their well-meant administrations slowly ate away at his self esteem. None of the men ever said it out loud, but to Silver it was crystal clear that he was nothing more than a millstone around all their necks, slowly eating away on their compassion like a useless parasite. So he’d started to avoid the soup kitchen whenever it was possible and ceased to spend the night with them in the shelter, instead sleeping rough under a motorway bridge he’d found on the edge of the district.

„Hey, have you heard about Logan?“, Muldoon asked. Silver was thankful, for the question was able to divert their attention on something other than himself for the moment.

„Haven’t met the lad in weeks“, DeGroot noted, and the others nodded in collective concern.

„What about him?“

„Is he ok?“

Muldoon made a reassuring hand gesture. „More than ok, actually.“ He grinned, savouring their suspense. „He got a job at that construction company, and straight up proposed to his bird, Charlotte.“

„The one who’s standing near Kings Cross? Max’s girl?“, Dooley asked from the other end of the table.

Muldoon nods. „Was talking ‘bout getting her off the street for a while now, and finally he’s got the money for it.“

The group broke out in a babel of whistles, congratulations and well-meant comments about the absentee’s love life. Silver smiled, sharing their delight for Logan’s good luck, but remained silent while he finished his meal.

When he stood up eventually, Muldoon looked at him with a surprised expression that could not have been entirely honest, because after all this time he knew that Silver was always the first one to go.

„Aren’t you coming to the shelter with us?“, he asked, like he did every time.

Silver forced a smile and replied: „Not tonight.“ Like he always did.

  
***  


The way back – what? Home? Well, he tended to think of his mattress under the motorway bridge as that. So, the way back home was a freezing and tedious affair, but he still preferred it over the extended company of his comrades. That was fucked up, he knew it well, but this cold, wet and unhealthy place was nothing he owed to the pity of respectable people, social workers, or even his own kind. It was his, and his alone.

With a sigh of relief Silver flopped down on his mattress, ignoring the cold that seeped through every layer of fabric covering his bum, and wrapped himself up in the blanket. There was nothing left to do but trying to sleep, so he closed his eyes and slipped one hand into his pocket to keep his earnings safe.

Something wasn’t right though, and Silver almost jumped out of bed, when he realized what it was. The familiar form of his medallion was gone. A sinking feeling began to settle in his guts, and a few frustrated tears moistened his lashes. He’d kept the stupid thing for such a long time! It had been his only treasure, the only reminder of the few good times in his life. He frantically searched his clothing and the immediate vicinity for it, but the medallion remained missing.

  
***  


He must’ve lost it at the soup kitchen or at the pet shop, Silver was sure of it; so the next day he set out on a fool’s errand to get back a worthless piece of junk, all the while cursing his sentimental streak.

He’d decided to start at the pet shop, almost hoping to find the thing just lying there, but there was no medallion in sight; not where he’d been sitting the other day, and also nowhere else. Silver felt the desperation creeping back in and slid with his back down the wall next to the pet shop until he was sitting on the freezing asphalt. Well, there was still the soup kitchen, but before he made his way there, he’d take a badly needed rest.

Suddenly the door to the shop opened with a jingle and out came the guy who’d yelled at him yesterday. Fearing another scolding, Silver came back to his feet with a grunt and said: „I’m sorry. No dossers, I know. I just -“

„Lookin‘ for this?“, the man interrupted his ramblings and held out his hand. On his outstretched palm lay the medallion, complete with a new and unbroken chain. Silver looked up at him, speechless.

The man handed him the piece of jewellery and nodded at the door. „Come inside.“

Silver was a little bit wary; who knew what that fickle old imbecile came up with next? But after a moment he followed him anyway. At least it would be warm in there.

The first thing he noted about the shop was the smell. A reeking but still strangely comforting mixture of litter, faeces and vinegar-based cleaner. The second thing was the noise, which contained of different screeching, squeaking and rustling sounds. Silver peeked into the various cages curiously. There were mostly rodents - guinea pigs, bunnies, rats - and some colourful birds. Betsy the cat was lying next to the computer terminal on the counter, only opening one eye to acknowledge their arrival.

„Name’s Randall, by the way“, the owner introduced himself without looking back, and motioned for his guest to follow him into some sort of backroom behind the counter.

„John Silver, Sir“, Silver answered. „Nice shop you have here.“

„Property of the family since my grandfather’s times“, Randall told him. „Got it from my dad together with this fellow here.“

Silver’s eyes followed his gesture to a corner of the little room, where a big parrot sat on a perch in front of a full-length mirror, quietly croaking to himself. Silver was impressed. „You inherited him? How old is he?“

Randall shrugged, fiddling about with an electric kettle that stood on a small table at the other end of the room. „No idea. Remember him bein‘ around since I was a little lad.“ He motioned to one of the two chairs in the room. „Bet you’d like a cup of tea. Black or mint?“

Silver needed a moment to realize something had been offered to him. „Ahm … black, thank you.“

He sat down while Randall rummaged the shelves for the tea, and the room sank into a silence that should’ve been awkward but wasn’t. Finally Silver had the opportunity to get a closer look at his host and for the first time noticed his slight limp and how loosely the trousers fell over his right leg. Randall noticed his gaze when he brought the tea, and sat down to roll up the fabric, revealing carbon and silicone where bone and flesh should’ve been.

„Boating accident“, Randall explained, grinning at him as if asking: _And you?_

„Ran into some arseholes“, Silver said, sporting a tentative grin himself.

They finished the rest of their drinks in this new, surprisingly comfortable silence, listening to the animalistic noises from outside. When Silver put his empty cup onto the table, Randall asked: „Fancy a shower?“

Silver’s hand froze mid-air. On second glance the guy had seemed decent enough, but now he wasn’t so sure. „Sorry“, he answered coldly. „I’m not one for that.“

„You stink“, Randall bluntly declared, not showing if he had even understood. „Not good with customers.“ He motioned back to the store room. „There’s a bathroom. With a shower. You can start cleaning the cages afterwards. If you’re any good, you can come back tomorrow. We’ll start at 7 pounds an hour.“

He stood and went back out to the front, leaving Silver sitting there in confusion. Had the guy just offered him a job?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. The first chapter was basically just exposition. Flint will appear in the next though.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If things are not as you wish, wish them as they are. (Yiddish Proverb)

With a splashing sound, the fresh hot water poured into his cleaning bucket. Silver added a drop of soap and heaved the full bucket out of the sink. It was hard enough to carry the thing back out to the salesroom without spilling half of it on the floor, and the fact that a purring Betsy was constantly following him around, rubbing her head on his leg or the crutch, did not make the task any easier.

„I’ve never seen a more needy cat in my life“, he said to her. „Look, I know you`re bored while Randall is out, but do you always have to be underfoot?“

Betsy watched him with her big yellow eyes and continued to follow him. Silver let out a long suffering sigh and took up his cleaning. After a week working in the shop, he’d even figured out a way to wipe the floor without tripping over his own crutch. When he passed the door to the backroom, he heard the parrot, who was cursing very colourfully in its croaking voice. Silver cracked a smile and watched through the doorway how the bird was hopping around on its perch.

„Who the hell are you talking to?, he asked amused.

„I’ll kill you! Fucker!“, answered the bird.

Silver raised his eyebrows. „Your manners leave much to be desired. No wonder Randall’s stuck with you.“

With a cautious look out the front door, he left his mop in the bucket and went to the parrot. It was an impressive animal; a little rumpled maybe, but still beautiful.

„I’d take you if only I could afford to feed you“, Silver told the bird fondly. „Just think about it. You and me together? We could dress up as pirates and take money from loaded tourists.“

The bird’s head bobbed up and down as if it wanted to show its enthusiasm. Silver chuckled, but then he caught a look at himself in the mirror and had to suppress a bitter laugh. „Look at the crippled dosser“, he muttered. „Talking to cats and birds like a madmen.“

He sighed and turned back to the parrot. „I wish you were an actual human being. I could…“

 _I could use someone to talk to while I’m working_ , he had wanted to add, but the words got stuck in his throat. A flash of light left him temporarily blind. Startled, he lost his balance and tumbled to the floor.

When his eyes started to work again and most of the multicoloured spots and blurs had faded, the parrot was gone. Instead a man was standing in front of him. A naked man to be exact. If Silver had been standing, the stranger would still have been a little bit taller than him. He had sea green eyes, fiery red hair which currently hung in unkempt bangs down his back, and a dense dusting of freckles on nearly every part of his light skinned body.

Before Silver could gather his thoughts to form a coherent sentence, the man’s eyes fixed their piercing gaze on him. The fraction of a second later he got hauled up by his shirt and pressed against the wall. The man’s face was now close enough that Silver could feel his breathing.

„Where’s Dufresne?“, his attacker growled. „That slimy little fucker! I'll crush him underneath my heel, the fucking prick!“

Silver fought against the iron grip around his throat. The bloke was inhumanly strong. He held him so high only the toes of his foot reached the floor, and it became harder and harder to stay upright.

„I … I don’t …“ His voice came out as a strangled wheeze. The man’s eyes widened, and a moment later his grip loosened a bit. „I don’t know who the fuck you’re talking about, man! Let me go!“

The stranger took a closer look at him, from his worn blue jeans with the pinned up left leg up to his shabby once dark green sweater. Then his gaze glided from Silver through the room and got caught on the outdated computer screen gathering dust on top of the shelf.

„What year is it?“, he asked, slowly turning back to Silver.

„Wha-? Ahm … 2017“, he answered in consternation. „Why would you ask that? Who are you?!“

The man also seemed taken aback for a second. „Oh? That long already! Well, I suppose he's likely dead by now. Too bad! I’d have enjoyed tearing out his guts. A fucking parrot! Can you believe it? Do you even know how itchy it is to be in moult?“, He shook his head dismissively. „Anyway, what’s your next wish?“

Silver’s mouth fell open. „My … what?“

The man raised an eyebrow and said very slowly as if talking to a dimwit: „Your wish. I’m a wishmaker, and you're apparently the owner of that thing that binds me.“ He tipped one finger against the medallion dangling in front of Silver’s chest. In all the commotion it must’ve slipped out of his sweater. The man looked at his clueless face and the second eyebrow joined the first. „You have no idea, do you?“

Silver just shook his head.

„Alright, alright.“ The stranger sighed and finally decided to put Silver back on the floor. He almost tumbled over again, but managed to balance his weight against the wall. He nodded to where his crutch lay on the floor. „Would you …?“

The man’s eyes followed his gaze, and immediately bent down to pick it up. „Here“, he muttered, when he handed it to him.

Silver took it wordlessly and put his weight on it. „You were saying …?

„Right. So, first of all, my name is Flint.“

„Just Flint?“, Silver asked amused.

Flint’s face darkened. „For now.“

„Ok. Well, nice to meet you, Flint“, Silver said in a calming tone. „My name's John. Silver. And as much as I’m enjoying the view, I’d recommend you wish yourself some clothes before my boss comes back.“

„Can’t use my own wishes“, Flint retorted brusquely.

„Oh … well“, Silver said and closed his eyes just in case, feeling more and more ridiculous as he did so. „I wish you’d wear some clothes? So I don’t lose my job?“

This time there was no flash of light; maybe because it took less hoodoo-voodoo energy to materialize some layers of fabric than to turn a bird into a full grown man. But when he opened his eyes, Flint wore a strange collection of clothes which seemed to have come out of an old silent movie.

„Sorry“, Flint said defensively when he noticed Silver’s look. „I don’t exactly know what people are wearing nowadays.“

„It will do“, Silver reassured him, trying to suppress an imminent fit of laughter. „Maybe you can pass as some kind of Hipster.“

„Hip- what?“

„Never mind. Just wait on the other side of the counter. I think I heard someone coming.“

It was Randall in fact, who was quietly muttering to himself just outside the front door. Silver ushered Flint out of the private part of the shop and proceeded with his work. The door opened with the usual jingling and Randall came in, greeted by a mewling Betsy. When he noticed Flint, who was standing awkwardly in a corner like a statue, he gave Silver a questioning look. „Is that a customer?“

„Actually no“, Silver answered with a sidelong glance at Flint. „It’s … uhm … a friend of mine. He came to pick me up after work. Is … is that okay?“

That explanation seemed to satisfy Randall, for he just nodded and went to the backroom to feed Betsy. That was when Silver remembered.

„I wish there was a parrot looking just like the old one on the perch“, he whispered hastily. With closed eyes he waited for an outcry, but none came. The wish must have worked. Silver breathed a sigh of relief, then called: „I’m closing up here!“

„See you on Monday“, came Randall’s answer from the backroom.

Silver put his cleaning stuff back into the bathroom, put on his shabby parka and beckoned Flint to come with him. The man, who’d been examining a cage full of squeaking guinea pigs, followed him outside without hesitation.

  
***  


The weather today was a lot friendlier than it had been the last few weeks. The icy sleet had resided and there was even a sliver of blue sky peeking out between the clouds. The air, however, was still as crispy cold as before.

Silver tried to figure out what to do next. Should he take Flint to his bridge? Or to the soup kitchen? Something inside him strived against this idea. How would he explain his sudden appearance to the others, let alone his strange behaviour? Right at that moment Flint nearly bumped into an elderly couple because he got distracted by a nine feet high billboard advertising the latest smartphone. The couple for their part ogled his strange clothing with ill-concealed scepticism. Silver suppressed a smile, but definitely decided against the soup kitchen.

„So, how does this whole wishing thing work exactly?“, he asked to break the awkward silence between them. „Is there a limit? Three wishes like in a fairytale? Or have I sold my soul to the devil without my knowledge? If that’s the case, I strongly object!“

„Don’t be ridiculous“, Flint scoffed, putting his hands in his pockets to keep them warm. „The wishmaking runs in my family. It’s passed on from father to son, just like the hair colour.“

„I’ve never heard of something like that before.“

Flint rolled his eyes just like Silver did every time somebody acquainted him with their patronizing assumptions about his life on the street. „There aren’t many of us“, he explained. „And we don’t exactly shout it from the rooftops.“

„Fair enough“, Silver noted. He assumed there was no end to the things some people would do to get their hands on such power. He shuddered when he thought about all the evil Flint could evoke if he ever fell into the wrong hands.

„As for your other question“, Flint continued. „There is a limit, yes, but even I can’t tell you precisely what it is.“

Silver was still wondering what that cryptic answer meant, when a new idea crossed his mind. He was surprised, he hadn’t thought about it earlier. „What about big wishes like … growing something back?“

Flint stopped in his tracks, looking at the empty space below Silver’s knee, and simultaneously avoiding the hopeful expression on his face. „That’s not how it works“, he explained somewhat gently „I’m not able to reverse former mistakes or losses such as this. I can only replace it with something else like a peg leg.“

They slowly resumed their walk. Silver did his best to hide his disappointment. For a tiny moment there he had started to restore his belief in universal justice. He thought about the possibility of a prosthesis for the first time in a long time. It had never really been an affordable option before, but maybe he should think about it now? He startled from the realization that somewhere between his first unconscious wish and now, he had begun to take this for granted; to take this ancient magical creature for granted, who had crashed like lightening into his mess of a life.

„So, how should I refer to you?“, he asked, when they were only a few blocks away from home. „As my fairy godmother?“

Flint’s brows drew together dangerously. „I resigned from killing you earlier, but if you ever call me that, I’ll change my mind.“

„Alright, alright!“ Silver defensively raised his free hand. „A genie? Like in _I Dream Of Jeannie_?“

„Never heard of it.“

„Of course not“, Silver mumbled. „ _Aladdin_?“

Flint’s eyes glazed over as if he was remembering something - or someone – long gone. Then he looked at Silver and smiled. „Arabian Nights. That one I know of. You’ve read it?“

Silver thought about his second foster family’s poorly equipped VHS collection. „You could say that.“

Fortunately Flint didn’t question that. Instead he grinned. „Well, I wasn’t residing inside a magic lamp, so I guess I’m no genie either.“

„Close enough“, Silver decided, chuckling softly.

Flint’s grunt was almost a sigh. „If you say so.“

  
***  


„So, who`s this Dufran-fellow you were talking about?“, Silver asked, not sure how else to get this conversation started.

They were sitting side by side at his usual spot. Much to Silver’s chagrin, Flint’s face had shown obvious dismay while he took in his reeking blanket on top of the soggy mattress that served as his sleeping place. Then he had more or less dragooned Silver into whishing them a pair of dry mats, some blankets, which wondrously smelled of sunshine and fresh air, and, above all, something decent to eat.

Considering Silver’s question, Flint lowered his cup of steaming hot tea, and his face darkened alarmingly. „You mean Dufresne.“

Silver nodded. „The guy you almost strangled me for. Whatever his name was.“

Flint actually managed to look a little bit shamefaced. „Right, sorry ‘bout that.“

Silver smiled to show him it was no big deal. „So, who was he?“

Flint sighed, wrapping his hands around his teacup. „He was my former master.“

„Does this mean that the talisman you spoke of – my medallion –belonged to him?“

Flint grunted sneerily. „Only if you call petty theft a legitimate reason to own something.“

Silver wisely kept his opinion on petty theft to himself for the moment.

„It was never truly his“, Flint continued, and there was something in his eyes that made Silver simultaneously want to back away and give him a hug. „He couldn’t control it. It scared him beyond measure.“

A cold shiver glided down Silver’s spine at these words. He swallowed. „When you say _it_ … do you mean yourself?“

Flint seized him up with his cutting green eyes. He didn’t answer the question. „How come, _you_ have it? Who gave it to you?“

„Nobody“, Silver hurried to say. „I found it at the beach one day when I was a child.“

Flint looked at him and Silver couldn’t really say if it was disbelief or surprise he saw in his face. After a moment of tense silence, Flint ran a hand over his frowning forehead. „The coward must’ve thrown it into the sea after he locked me in bird form.“ He eyed Silver with newly awakened interest. „If you hadn’t found it, I would’ve spent the rest of eternity shitting the floor in that fucking pet shop.“

„I guess so“, Silver muttered, quite baffled himself. Then he gave his genie a lopsided grin. „Maybe it was fate we met.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A man, when he wishes, is the master of his fate. (Jose Ferrer)

Silver woke a few hours before sunrise to the smell of the sea. Still half asleep he wondered where – and when exactly he was until someone’s frantic murmuring finally brought his mind about. When he raised his head, Silver realized that he had slept with his cheek pressed into a tangle of long red hair, and suddenly every supernatural occurrence of the previous day came back to him in a rush.

The soft but alarmingly panicked voice next to him belonged to Flint, who’d been his boss’s parrot only yesterday.

His head began to spin. It had not been a freaky dream then? The sight of new mattresses and a half empty tea kettle confirmed that it was indeed true.

Another inarticulately muttered sentence brought Silver’s attention back to his unlikely bedfellow, and he frowned.

Flint’s face was contorted in extreme anguish, his long limbs tangled in the blanket, leaving too much of his skin open to the sharp winter air for Silver’s liking. As he watched, Flint‘s murmurings grew louder and more pronounced until he startled him by crying out a single plea: „Not him!“

With that he suddenly woke with flailing arms, dealing Silver a nasty blow to the jaw that would certainly leave a bruise. Hastily getting out of his way, Silver waited on the edge of the mattress for the man to get his bearings. Luckily, no one seemed to have taken notice of Flint’s yelling. The last thing they needed was that the pigs cleared their little camp for disturbing the peace.

„Nightmare?“, he guessed when Flint’s heaving gasps had finally calmed down to slow rhythmical breathing. Some traces of sorrow still clung to his sickly pale face. Flint’s wandering gaze fixed on him with great confusion as if he too had momentarily forgotten the other’s presence.

„Yeah“, he replied after swallowing something that was probably bile.

Silver reached for the kettle and, after breaking the thin layer of ice inside, poured him a draught. Flint took it with a shaking hand and downed it in one go, shuddering as the freezing tea trickled down his throat.

„Thanks“, he sighed. „You could’ve wished it warm, though.“

Silver inwardly chastised himself for not remembering that, but what he said was: „Didn’t seem right to pester you in your current state.“

The raw look of astonishment in Flint’s eyes was as surprising as it was painful. It made Silver wonder. How many masters had he had? And how many of them had used him like an unfeeling tool?

„Wanna tell me, what the dream was about?“, Silver gently asked. „I heard that helps.“

Flint slowly shook his head and kept his eyes fixed on his tea. „It was nothing.“

„Didn’t sound like nothing“, Silver noted. Actually it had sounded like _someone_ , but he dared not utter what he’d overheard. Whoever this _him_ was, or had been, he seemed connected to some pretty disturbing memories for Flint, and Silver wasn’t so sure if it would be a good idea to evoke them deliberately.

Flint, however, chose to ignore Silver’s last remark completely. He violently raked his fingers through his unkempt copper tresses, only tangling them further, and asked rather bluntly: „Don’t you have to work today?“

„It’s Sunday“, Silver answered. „The shop is closed.“ He hesitated, but then added: „Normally I would be sitting somewhere near Euston or St. Pancras now. People are more charitable after mass.“ His mouth still had trouble to form the word _begging_ , even after all this time. „But ….“

Flint raised a single sardonic eyebrow. „But now you have me“, he finished. „Alright. So, what’s next on the agenda? The leg?“

Taken by surprise Silver looked down his own body, and a familiar sinking feeling took hold of his gut. Sometimes it was so easy to forget. „N-no“, he managed. „I mean … not right now.“ 

„Why not?“ Flint eyed him; not with pity or incomprehension, but with a reserved curiosity as if he was really interested in Silver’s reason to turn down the offer.

„Because it’s not that simple“, Silver retorted. „A prosthesis isn’t something you just buy at the next store, is it? It has to be customized; adjusted to one’s body and needs …“

„Don't worry, _master_.“ Flint made him a small mocking bow, chuckling wryly. „That would be included in the service.“

Silver barely heard him. He slowly shook his head, reliving every frustrating conversation with doctors and physical therapists who’d wanted him to consider his options when he‘d already known their services would be unaffordable for him. In a sudden burst of anger, he gestured at Flint’s outdated clothes. „It’s not 1900 anymore! Can you even imagine how complex these things are nowadays? You can’t just slip it on and be all set. There are stockings to consider; liners, special shoes, special soap …“ He paused, overcome by anxiety, and Flint used the break to state somewhat defensively: „Where I come from, a peg leg was not much more than a stick with some leather on top. How come it’s even more inconvenient now?“

Silver gave him a weary smile. „That’s the paradoxical gist of our modern world: It makes everything easier, but much more complicated at the same time.“

Flint seemed to pick up on Silver‘s frustrated mood, because the furrows on his brow over the slender bridge of his nose were deepening dangerously. „I figured as much“, he more or less growled.

Silver’s teeth flashed in a half grin. „Would you rather be a parrot again?“

A muscle began to twitch next to Flint’s left eye, which Silver began to recognize as a warning sign of waxing irritation. It gave him the appearance of a ginger tomcat, whipping its tail. It did something to Silver’s nervous system too; like flashes of electricity firing down his spine, nearly setting his flight instinct in motion, but not quite. It was moments like this when it occurred to Silver that he had no idea what – or who – he was dealing with.

„While we’re at it“, Silver said, deciding to battle his fear and get some answers. „I wondered where you actually come from. Or should I say _when_? You’re clothing style suggests the nineteen-hundreds, but -“

As chance would have it, a helicopter chose this very moment to noisily cross the patch of sky they could see from under their bridge. Flint looked up sharply, vainly trying to mask his flinch by a change of posture.

This time Silver’s grin had a sly quality to it. „See? That’s exactly what I mean. You look like you’ve never seen a human fly before. Therefore, you must be even older than -“

„I was born in the 17th century, if you must know it“, Flint grumbled. „And, for the record, I’ve known humans _trying_ to fly for the last two hundred years, but back then it was a rather short and mostly silent affair.“

Silver examined him with an open mouth. „That – wow. I did not expect that. I was thinking – but that? You’re ancient!“

Flint shrugged. Then, with a suddenness that made Silver jerk, he closed the distance between them, invading his space. The tips of Flint‘s fingers tickled on the skin of Silver‘s throat, leaving gooseflesh where they went, until he seemed to have found what he was searching for. The medallion’s chain softly tinkled when he pulled the pendant out of Silver‘s collar. „It’s that thing’s fault. I can’t die unless it’s destroyed.“

Almost on its own volition, Silver’s hand crept up to his chest, clasping the pendant in an involuntarily protective way. He faintly realized that he was shaking. „Why’re you telling me this?“

Flint pulled back and returned to his former position as if nothing had happened. „Why?“, he repeated with a confused look. Then he uttered a barking laugh of sudden insight. „You think you could use this knowledge against me?“ Quiet amusement was now bubbling up in the green pools that were his eyes. „Oh, you won’t destroy it. Not one master before you was able to; and most of them were adept in magic so dark you’re timid little mind can’t even imagine it.“

The word magic echoed through Silver’s skull as if his brain had actually evaporated and left nothing but a vacant space in its place. This casual mentioning of something that shouldn’t be real was somehow even more of a challenge to him than actually experiencing it. He closed his eyes for a moment, willing his thoughts back on track.

„But they tried?“, he asked.

„Not many of them“, Flint answered languidly. „A servant who can grant almost every wish doesn’t exactly come along every other day. And people are predictably selfish.“ He grinned at Silver when he said that. „To be honest, you’re the first one who’s actually in a sore need of my services.“ After a look at Silver’s face he added a quick „No offence.“

„None taken“, he answered after a few seconds of unpleasant silence. Silver wasn’t offended; not really. The indignity he normally felt when confronted with his situation was somehow less searing when his opposite was an ancient magical being. He looked around their little camp, taking in his meagre possessions. „You know, if you’re so eager, I _could_ use a roof over my head.“

Silver searched Flint’s face for any signs of the probable impossibility of such a feat, but his genie only nodded, waiting for him to continue.

„It doesn’t have to be much“, Silver elaborated. „Just a little flat or even just a trailer, nothing big.“ He paused, his mind returning to their former topic. „As for the leg? We’ll see to that later. When we’re settled somewhere.“ _Somewhere nobody can see me practise walking, like a two-year-old._ „I’m not even sure if I still remember how to walk on two feet.“ That last remark had just slipped out of him without his consent. Silver felt Flint’s eyes burning his skin like sunrays, but couldn’t bring himself to meet his gaze, so the firm hand on his shoulder came as quite a surprise.

„John?“ When Silver looked at him, startled, the sun was not scorching him anymore, but warming his insides. „We’ll figure it out.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! I also apologize in advance for all chapters that may come irregularly in the future. Stupid privat life getting in the way ^^


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If wishes were horses beggars would ride. (Joanne Harris)

„We’ll figure it out.“

Silver was still wallowing in the strange fuzzy feeling these words happened to form around his heart, when Flint’s next utterance pulled him back to reality.

„Well?“

Silver blinked. „Well _what_ ?“

Flint rolled his eyes, apparently only barely holding his impatience in check, but there was a little twitch in the left corner of his mouth. „You’re wish. You have to formulate it as such.“

„Oh“, Silver said, feeling slightly stupid. „Well … I wish, I had a place to live.“

He regretted his words the moment he spoke them, suddenly wondering if he should’ve been more specific about where _exactly_ he wanted his home. Chancing an upward glance, Silver half expected to be buried under an entire building, like the Wicked Witch of the East, but nothing happened. He looked around, but everything seemed perfectly normal.

When he looked back at Flint, the little twitch on the man’s mouth had become a full-grown smirk. „What? Did you expect me to conjure a whole house on the spot?“

Silver could just shrug. What did _he_ know?

„I _could_ do that“, Flint continued. „But only if you’re eager to get into trouble with the rightful owner of these premises.“ His eyes wandered over the muddy ground and up the spray painted pillars, until he was looking at the blotchy grey underbelly of the motorway bridge. „Although it‘s beyond me, who’d want to fight over this place.“

„The building authorities, I guess“, Silver murmured, but Flint paid him no attention.

„Don’t worry“, he said. „You’ll get what you want eventually. Some wishes just take longer to perform than others.“

„That’s good to know, I suppose“, Silver replied and watched him stretch with a yawn. The night had left a thick blanket of winter clouds in its wake, but with the break of dawn the sky had begun to clear up, and the sun came through. In the yellow morning light, Flint’s hair and beard were glowing like a blaze, and Silver could distinguish every single freckle on his fair skin, even the one spot concealed by stubble near the corner of his mouth.

He only realized that he was staring when Flint raised one brow and asked: „Something wrong?”

Feeling slightly exposed, Silver lowered his eyes and laid one hand upon his stomach. „I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

„Great! What do you fancy?“

„What do I -?“ Silver paused, searching for words. „Have you any idea how long it has been since I’ve asked myself that? Well, Flint, I -“

„James“, Flint whispered scarcely audible.

„Pardon?“

Flint’s eyes rose from the sight of his own hands and searched for Silver’s. „My name’s James. Thought you should know.“

For a second Silver was too stunned to answer, then he softly repeated the name, committing it to memory: „James.“

A sudden yell from the direction of the street made them both jump. „John?“ That was Muldoon’s voice. „John! Are’ya there?“

Silver yanked the blanket from his body and got up, in his haste ignoring Flint’s offered hand as well as his questioning look. He didn’t even know what he wanted to hide from his friend, but the situation felt a lot like being caught smoking by one of his foster parents.

When Muldoon came into view from behind a man-high poster from last year’s election, his eyes under the thick woollen cap found Silver immediately. „Jesus, John! There’ye are!“ He slithered down the gentle slope, raising a worn plastic bag. „You haven’t been to the kitchen lately, so I brought food. We’re all worried sick about you! Thought maybe your weird employer did -“

They’d never find out what his friends had thought poor Randall capable of, because as soon as Muldoon realized that Silver wasn’t alone, he broke off. Then his gaze fell on Silver’s face, and his relief gave way to shock.

„What happened?“, he demanded, raising a hand to Silver’s cheek.

„Ouch!“ Silver jolted away from his touch when Muldoon fingered a sore spot right under his left eye. Flint’s unconscious thrashing must have left a bigger bruise than he’d realized.

Muldoon was slowly turning his head to glare at Flint, but he was still speaking to Silver when he growled: „Was it him?“

„Well, yes but -“

Muldoon did not wait for his explanation. With an outraged cry he lunged himself onto Flint before Silver could do anything more than gasp.

„What else have’ye done to him, you shit!“

„No, stop it!“

„He hit you, John!“

„It was an accident! Please, you have to trust me on this!“

Flint sneered. „You think you can threaten me? Think again!“

Silver hurried to intervene before anyone got seriously hurt. „He’s a friend. James, please!“

Flint looked at him sharply, and Silver realized with a little shock how naturally the man’s given name had left his lips.

Muldoon inspected Flint over Silver’s shoulder. „Where did he come from, anyway?“ 

„He’s …“, Silver hesitated in search for a satisfying explanation. „… a friend“, he repeated lamely.

„From before?“, Muldoon asked with a quick glance down to his leg.

The medallion’s weight was a comforting burden against Silver‘s chest as he replied: „From when I was little.“

Still sceptical Muldoon looked from one to the other as if they were both insane, but after a few tense seconds of silence he reluctantly acquiesced. „Well, if you say so I guess I’ll have to take your word for it.“

When the tension gradually left Silver’s body, he became aware that Flint’s forearm had somehow found its way into his hand. Before he could do anything about it, though, Flint had withdrawn from his reach.

Muldoon didn’t seem to notice. He let his eyes roam over the new blankets and mattresses and nodded approvingly. „That pet shop guy seems to pay you well enough.“

„Well …“ 

„But I bet you’re still hungry.“ He dangled his plastic bag in front of Silver’s face. „And your friend here looks like he could use a bite too.“

Without further ado he sat on one of the mattresses and began to unpack bread rolls, some cheese and a few battered apples. „Quit standing there like salt pillars“, he told them with a puzzled look over his shoulder. „Come here and eat.“

Silver sensed the objection rising in Flint’s chest, so he stopped him with a sharp look and a shake of the head.

Flint’s brow furrowed in confusion. „But I could -“

„No“, Silver hissed. Then he went over to Muldoon and said: „That’s really not necessary. I can afford my own food now. The job -“

„John, come on!“ Muldoon gave him a doubting look. „It must’ve been a struggle to save up enough to buy all this.“ He encompassed the whole camp in one sweeping gesture. „Just stop arguing and enjoy my gifts for once!“

Silver found himself at a loss, when suddenly his traitorous genie clapped him on the shoulder and went to join Muldoon on the floor. He was even more speechless when Flint asked: „So, he’s always like this?“

Muldoon’s grimace could almost be considered a smile. „Sadly, yes. But shouldn’t you know that, being his friend and all?“

„We haven’t seen each other for a very long time“, Silver said in an attempt to gain back control over the conversation, and trusted his eloquent mouth to make up the rest of the story. „We shared the same foster family for some time and happened to get along pretty well. Although James here soon left for university.“

Muldoon looked at Flint with overt surprise. „Oh? What did you study?“

Silver shrank a little bit under the glare boring into his eyeballs, while Flint was frantically searching for an answer. „Ahhm…“ He put some cheese in his mouth to stall for time. „Actually I … realized it wasn’t for me, so I became a carpenter instead.“

„Really?“ Muldoon‘s question echoed Silver’s thoughts. „That’s nice.“ His gaze glided over Flint’s odd clothes which were also awfully wrinkled from sleeping rough. „So … what happened?“

Flint cleared his throat. „My employer – uhm – met an unfortunate end.“

„I’m sorry“, Muldoon said, while the other two shared a meaningful look that made the hair on the back of Silver’s neck stand on end.

They finished the rest of their meal in a silence that was not as awkward as expected. Silver had a hard time focussing on his food while watching Flint’s fingers playfully cutting an apple into a crown like shape. His imagination carried him away to a workshop filled with sawdust and pine scent as he pictured what these hands could do to a piece of wood. It then took him further to less innocuous things, so he was relieved, and also a little bit frustrated, when Muldoon’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

„John, I wanted to talk to you about something.“

„Shoot.“

Muldoon fiddled with a hole in his bag. „Remember the slogan Mayor Rogers was advertising with in his last campaign?

„Progress Against Poverty. For a Clean Capital?“, he asked sourly. „Who doesn’t? It was plastered all over the city. One of those fucking posters is still obscuring my view.“ He gestured back in the direction Muldoon had come from. „What of it?“

„He’s about to enact a new law which will affect a lot of our people.“

„Let me guess“, Silver felt his temper rise. „He finally succeeded to enforce the sleeping ban?“

„Sleeping ban?“, a puzzled Flint piped up beside him.

„Exactly“, Muldoon confirmed. „The police is“, here he raised both hands to cynical double quotes, „encouraged to remove all rough sleepers within the vicinity of Inner London.“

Silver frowned. The city’s few night shelters were always full to bursting, or occupied by violent folk, so for a lot of people the streets were the only option. Sleeping in the outer boroughs would still be a possibility, but the most lucrative spots to beg during the day were all located in the city’s centre, so everyone whose subsistence depended on begging was bound to suffer great losses on their already meagre income, especially old and sick people. Or disabled people like himself, Silver grimly realized.

„Feelings are runnin‘ high at the kitchen“, Muldoon continued. „Billy’s taken it upon himself to organize a rally to demonstrate against the new law.“

Silver doubted that a single rally could achieve anything, but still he asked: „When?“

„In about an hour in front of City Hall“, Muldoon informed him with an apologetic look. „It’s not much time, I know. It’ll be stuffed with people too; everybody’d understand if you’d rather not -“

„I’ll be there“, Silver answered tersely.

„Are’ye sure?“ Muldoon was cautiously studying his face. „Well, that’s great. Do you know how you‘ll get there?“

Rolling his eyes, Silver took his crutch and, not too gently, poked him in the ribs. „I think I‘ll ask the chauffeur to get the Bentley ready. No Rolls Royce weather today. Isn’t that right, James?“ 

He had not even expected Flint to know what he was talking about, so he was quite surprised when the man answered in an awfully blasé way: „Indeed, Sire. All this dust on the roads might dull the coating.“

For a second they both just ogled him with open mouths, then Muldoon burst into laughing. „Not bad“, he gasped when he’d got back his breath. „Not bad at all. I begin to see why you like him.“ He stood up, stretching and setting his cap straight. And with one last worried look at Silver’s bruised cheek he asked: „You’re a hundred percent sure, I can leave you with him?“

„Yes, I’m sure“, Silver sighed.

„Alright“, Muldoon said. „But if this sort of accident happens again, I’ll be bustin‘ his dial! You get me?“ The last part was addressed to Flint directly, and Silver held his breath until it was answered with a curt nod and half a grin.

Muldoon seemed satisfied enough, although he took his leave without so much as looking at Flint. „I’ll see you later, then.“

When he was gone, Silver chuckled. „Quick thinking! Did you even know what I was referring to?“

Flint shrugged. „I didn’t. Still don‘t, but you sounded exactly like a swanky aristocrat talking about his second-best coach, and those I know all too well.“ His wry smile faded when he looked back at Silver. „What's the matter?“

Silver realized that he had let his shoulders sag significantly as soon as Muldoon had been out of sight. As soon as it was again safe to show fatigue and ache. „Oh. It’s nothing. I’m just a little weary.“

Flint cast a knowing glance in the direction in which Muldoon had disappeared. „You were putting up a show. For him.“

Silver raked the fingers of one hand through his hair, sighing. „It’s just easier that way. Him and the others; they tend to … fuss.“ 

Flint didn’t answer. He just made a questioning sound.

Silver shook his head in thought. „I know they are my friends, but if they saw me weak, they’d make their own lives miserable for me.“ He uttered a humourless laugh. „Even more miserable, I mean. So, I don’t show them. I just don’t.“

Flint examined him, head tilted to one side. „But you do with me?“

Silver looked at him, slightly startled. „I guess“, he said, running his hand over the back of his neck in embarrassment. „With you it’s … I don’t know, different somehow.“

Flint remained silent for a while and watched Silver absently kneading his neck. The frown on his face was gradually deepening into a scowl, until he basically grumbled: „You’re hurting.“

Silver’s hand on his neck came to a dead stop. Some instinct inside him told him to shut down.

Flint seemed to sense his sudden reserve and kept his hands safely away as he suggested: „I could try to ease the pain a little – if you want.“

„No.“ The answer came automatically, and Silver gave his best to soften his tone. „That’s not necessary. There’s still the other wish to consider. I don’t want you to -“

„I’m not talking about a wish“, Flint explained. „Just … Come here.“

Silver frowned at his opened arms for a moment, before his body suddenly seemed to ignore the protests of his brain and sent him into Flint’s lap. It was no fast movement, and Flint met him halfway, carefully brushing aside his locks to rest a hand on his neck. After a moment he slowly started to stroke the skin there with the tips of his fingers. They where cold at first, but soon took on the warmth of Silver’s flesh. He held his breath and tried to remember the last time anybody had touched him like this.

Silver had expected that Flint would begin to knead the strained muscles around his spine, so he was accordingly perplexed when the soft touch suddenly withdrew from his neck only to reappear around his right hand. Before he could ask, Flint had left the space behind his back and sat in front of him, never letting go of his hand in the process.

„There’s a certain spot“, he mused, focussing solely on Silver’s hand. „Right here in this soft area between the bones of your thumb and forefinger …“ He pressed, and Silver almost jerked back when his fingers literally hit a nerve. A streak of pain, emanating from that one spot, ran across his knuckles and even up his arm. It was an unpleasant but somewhat relaxing feeling.

After a span of time that might have been just a few seconds, but felt longer, Flint loosened his hold. „That’s supposed to help with back pain. There’s another one up here.“ Silver intently watched as his hand slipped inside his sleeve and repeated the process on a spot in the crook of his arm.

„Better?“, Flint wanted to know.

„Strangely, yes“, Silver answered and met his eyes. „Where did you learn this?“

Suddenly Flint seemed to shrink a little. „From a friend“, he murmured, and his eyes glazed over like they sometimes did, before he haltingly added: „She was a curious woman. Had a penchant for Greek philosophers on one day and for Eastern medicine the next. She … she’s dead now, obviously.“

Silver had the urge to ask her name, but somehow he sensed an invisible border which he knew would be fatal to cross. Instead he took Flint’s hand that was still up his sleeve, and gave it a reassuring squeeze. „Thank you. That really helped.“

Flint cleared his throat, still not completely back to his normal self. „Shouldn’t we hit the road? How much time do we have left?“

„You’re right.“ Reluctantly Silver stood up, amazed at the reduced stiffness in his body. Flint’s treatment really seemed to have done wonders. „We should go. If you _want_ to come, that is.“

Flint blinked, obviously taken by surprise. Silver patiently waited until he had wrapped his head around the concept of free choice. 

„Count me in.“

„Great!“ Silver smiled, and as an afterthought added: „Would it be o.k. if I wished us there? I’d hate to undo your good work so soon.“

Flint shrugged. „Be my guest.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, sorry for the wait again! The updates will most likely continue to come in these intervals. Second, I don’t know anything about British or London politics, so there might be some amount of bullshit in here. This extends to every fact concerning begging. I was basically taking the (outrageous) policies and decisions of my own hometown government and applying it to the city in this story (which is basically London). The fact that I couldn’t find any word like „Nächtigungsverbot“ (sleeping ban) in the English dictionary gives me hope. Anyway, I’ll stop pestering you with my political opinions now ^^
> 
> P.S.: I recently found out that there’s also a book called „Progress Against Poverty“ which deals with a Mexican poverty reduction program. I did not read it and I know nothing about that program. When I used the same words for Roger’s slogan, I wasn‘t referring to it in any way.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We would often be sorry if our wishes were granted. (Aesop)

Muldoon’s prediction had been spot-on. The area around City Hall was already packed with upset people waving banners and shields. The mayor’s latest decisions seemed to have evoked more anger than Silver would‘ve imagined. He wondered how much of this interest was based on Billy’s social media skills.

They found the others directly in front of the Halls entrance. Even Max and her girls where there, almost respectable looking, and Silver spotted Logan and his fiancée who were in the middle of a playful fight for the megaphone.

Naturally Flint became the centre of attention as soon as they’d bored a way through the crowd to join the group. 

„Is that ‘im?“, Dooley asked Muldoon, who was standing next to him. „Looks pretty harmless to me.“

Silver, who’d used Flint’s shoulder as a means to keep his balance in all the pushing and shoving around them, felt how the man sharply turned his head in Dooley’s direction, but just then a car with tinted windows was parting the crowd, preventing any violent outbursts.

The people’s bawling grew louder when Mayor Rogers left the car amidst his securities and almost instantly disappeared inside the building.

„That fucking coward won’t even look us in the face!“, an elderly woman next to him shouted.

„Not him maybe“, Silver heard Muldoon murmur. „Look.“

There was new commotion at the entrance when some men in suits stepped outside. Cameras flashed. Amongst them was Benjamin Hornigold, the mayor’s official spokesperson. Or the one sugar-coating his decrees for the public. His grandfatherly smile was enough to make Silver’s stomach churn.

„Great, here we go“, Silver murmured in exasperation. „I wish he’d choke on his words!“

A shrill whistling sound elicited a painful groan from the people; somebody had given Hornigold a microphone. „Now“, he said, addressing the crowd in an irritatingly soothing voice. „Let’s calm down a little, shall we. May I have your attention, please!“ He checked his notes. „Due to numerous complaints from local residents and shopkeepers, we had to take action in form of this new law.“ He paused for a moment to clear his throat. „It is a matter of applying a moral standard. Our streets and pedestrian subways can no longer be exposed to contam-“ A violent coughing fit was suddenly interrupting his speech, and Silver felt a grin creeping on his face. Served him right!

After a few seconds Hornigold seemed to have regained his composure. „Excuse me. As I was saying, our streets can no longer be exposed to contamination and odour nuisance by people misusing them as public toilets! Every morning sleeping persons are posing an obstacle for our road sweepers and prevent–“ Another cough. Someone beside him pressed a water bottle into the spokesman’s hands.

It was in this moment that realization hit Silver like a sledgehammer. He’d expressed a wish! What was happening right now was his doing. He cast a glance at Flint’s profile, but the man’s attention was focussed on the people’s reaction around him. Bewilderment was spreading like a disease.

After an awkward pause, Hornigold continued: „Pre - preventing the thorough cleansing of our bEAUTI -“ The last word ended on an embarrassing high-pitched note not even a pubescent boy could have topped. The occasional snicker could be heard among the crowd. The spokesman tried again, but not even a single peep came out of his mouth. His entourage grew more and more restless, while the people on the street were gradually picking up the contagious laughter until the whole crowd was roaring and jeering. 

Silver though felt his laughter die in his throat while he watched the scene unfolding in front of the entrance. Somebody had thankfully turned off the microphone so he couldn’t hear Hornigold’s laborious breathing, but his wide panicked eyes and beet red face spoke for themselves.

„A doctor”, a young secretary shouted. „He needs a doctor! Bring him inside!”

A freezing panic began to rise in his chest; dark spots were spinning in front of his eyes, and only Flint’s arm around his shoulders kept him steady. Had he killed the guy?

„John? Stay with me“, he heard Flint grunt. 

„What’s wrong with him?“, Muldoon’s worried voice joined in.

„I’m o.k.“, Silver tried to reassure everyone who’d listen, and indeed, the blood was already rushing back into his brain. „I just need to sit down for a while.“

Muldoon’s face hovered in front of him with a worried frown. „Can you manage to get him out of here?“, he asked Flint. 

Flint just nodded, taking Silver’s arm, and escorted him back through the boisterous rally until they reached a less-crowded area where Silver collapsed onto an empty bench.

„Are you really feeling better?“, Flint asked honestly concerned.

„Did I kill him?“, Silver demanded, ignoring his question.

„What?“

He glared up at him. „You know exactly what I mean! Did my wish kill him?

Flint’s mouth opened and closed a couple of times. Then he shook his head, faintly snorting. „No one died. He’ll experience a sore throat for the next few days, nothing more.“

„Thank god“, Silver breathed, relief flooding his synapses. Following the sudden urge to get back to his feet, he stood up from the bench and, although he had to fight another head-rush, took a few steps down the street, rejecting Flint’s offered arm. He only stopped in front of a big shop window, leaning against the frame and closing his eyes for a moment.

„At least it was entertaining“, Flint, who had followed him noted cautiously. „You certainly have an instinct for the right timing.“

Silver didn’t smile. The shock still sat too deep in his bones.

„If it affects you so, I’d recommend you to be more careful next time“, Flint said. „It _can_ have quite sinister side effects, I admit.“

„You don’t say.“

„Come on!“ Flint clapped him on the shoulder with a careful grin on his face. „This man deserved a little humiliation. Stop worrying about it!“

A pale smile was now tugging on Silver’s lips too. „It was kinda funny, wasn’t it?“

Flint’s satisfied grin was answer enough. „You need a distraction“, he decided, scratching his chin in thought. „Tell me, what is it you miss most from your old life?“

Silver huffed a cynical breath. „You mean, besides standing on two feet?“

„Yes, and besides all mundane things of daily life. What is it that you’re craving, John?“

The first things that came to his mind had a lot to do with blazing hair, sawdust and the colour of the sea on a cold day, but all that got stuck in Silver’s throat like a piece of stale bread. After a while, another, less precarious thought crossed his mind. „Francesco‘s“, he whispered in an almost enraptured manner.

„And who’s that?“, Flint asked visibly puzzled.

Silver smiled. „It’s a small Italian place I used to frequent“, he explained. „Best pesto rosso you’ll ever taste outside of Italy.“

„And most likely the only pesto rosso I’ve ever tasted“, Flint mused. „Well, you sound downright euphoric, so let’s go there.“

„What, now?“

„Of course.“ Flint rolled his eyes at him. „Why not?“

Silver tugged at his own clothing. „I’m sorry to break it to you, but they’d never let the likes of us cross the threshold.“

After a fleeting moment of hesitation, Flint raised both hands and let them settle on Silver’s shoulder in a reassuring grip. It was such a grounding feeling that Silver slowly began to let go of the nagging doubts in his mind. He willingly went with it when Flint with great care started to turn him on the spot.

The window Silver had been leaning against belonged to an expensive looking shop selling menswear, so he was now face to face with a group of mannequins in leisure suits and elegant winter coats. He slightly shivered when he felt the warm puff of Flint’s breath on his freezing ear shell as he was asked: „Would this be enough to make us look respectable?“

„I guess so“, Silver answered, but grew pale when he saw the price tag. He had stolen things before, but nothing worth more than a few pence. Some apples from the fruit market, or an old sweater from a lonesome clothes line once.

Well, technically it couldn’t be considered stealing, could it? If he took care of his own wording, Flint would just produce copies while the originals stayed behind their window, safe and sound. Nobody would be the wiser …

„You know what?“, he finally said, feeling kind of reckless. „I wish we would wear replicas of these outfits.“

Flint acknowledged his careful phrasing with a sly grin. „You’re a quick learner.“

There was a strange tingling feeling covering Silver’s whole body, and when he looked down on himself, he was wearing a grey turtleneck under a warm winter coat. Amazed Silver felt the fabric and the seams. He had never worn anything of this quality in his whole life; even before living on the street.

„That’s much better“, he heard Flint say. The man stood next to him, encompassing him with an appreciative gaze. He looked more than stunning himself, in jeans and a dark leather blazer. His hair was also different; a little shorter and done in a ponytail at the back of his head. Silver liked what he saw, but wondered how much of it was Flint’s doing and how much his own. He still knew too little about the workings of this magic – or magic in general - to find a satisfying answer. And in the end, it didn’t really matter he supposed.

His own hair was still long and unbound, but felt less greasy and matted than before. He startled a little bit when Flint reached out, tugging on one of his locks and letting it bounce back.

„Always wondered how these would look fresh and clean“, he mused.

„Do they live up to your expectations?“, Silver asked, half joking and half anxious. In the past he‘d been pretty confident about his looks, but life on the streets had knocked that out of him a long time ago.

Flint’s hand wandered from Silver‘s hair to his shoulder, then down his arm until tentative fingers brushed against the hand holding the crutch. „You look gorgeous, John.“

  
***  


The question remained how they would pay for their food. Silver was opposed to Flint’s suggestion to simply meddle with the waiter’s memory. Instead he dug out the money he’d earned from Randall the day before, and let Flint duplicate it several times over. It was all coin, so the pieces rattled inside his pockets like cutlery, but that did nothing to dampen the pleasant anticipation he began to feel. A decent meal amidst regular people stroke Silver as a miracle he had not even known he’d been hoping for.

Prepared in such a fashion, they set off in the direction of East End. The restaurant lay in a smaller side street where traffic was quieting down gradually. Throughout the morning, the sun had again hidden behind lowering clouds, so the lampions gracing the little canopy right above the entrance shed their tricoloured light of red, white and green through the darkening midday gloom.

After all this time, it felt almost like a sacrilege for Silver to set foot inside the place and breathe the warm fragrant air. Only a few tables were taken. The clientele seemed to have remained the same over the years, consisting mostly of hung-over university students, recuperating from yesterday’s parties, and some old men drinking at the bar while vocally debating the latest football results. As always, Silver attracted the occasional glance, but different from usual, it was not averted right after in avoidance of being asked for money. Instead some eyes followed him in a conspicuously inconspicuous fashion. He felt watched; like everybody could easily see through his disguise and spot the homeless person hiding underneath.

Flint seemed to sense his discomfort because he immediately took the lead and found them a table in a corner, safely away from the other customers. Nonetheless, Silver shrunk a little when the waiter came to take their order, half expecting to get thrown out.

„Relax“, Flint said when they were each finally nursing a glass of the inexpensive but decent wine of the house. „No one’ll notice anything. They’re just admiring your face.“

Silver snorted. „Yeah, sure. Because my face is the most striking feature about me.“

At this, Flint put his glass down with more force than necessary. „Will you stop the sarcasm for a moment and just take my word for it?“

Silver was quite stunned by this sudden outburst. Never before had someone taken heart to contradict him in his self-deprecating mood; even his closest friends mostly just ignored it. A part of him was moved by the notion that Flint wanted to protect him, even from himself, but a different, darker part felt slightly patronized. At the time being, this was the part that took over.

„Well, excuse me if my experience tells me otherwise.“

„If that’s the case, I guess, what you need are better experiences“, Flint said, regarding Silver‘s bitter tone with a frown of his own; although it appeared more thoughtful than angry. „Maybe that’s why I’m here after all.”

„What do you mean?“

With a grin, Flint raised his glass. „Let’s start over and make new experiences together.“

Silver felt his resentment melting like butter on warm bread. „I’m sorry. I’m just not used to … well, all of this.“ He shrugged and sat up straight to chink glasses with him. „You’re right. We’re here to amuse ourselves, aren’t we? So let’s do just that.“

Flint seemed satisfied. With a nod he put the conversation to an end and picked up the menu, studying it with apparent interest. „Pesto rosso, you say? I think, I’ll try that.“

Not only did they order the pasta but also two different kinds of pizza, sharing all the food between them. Since he’d never had anything resembling Italian food before, Flint’s taste buds were in for a whole bunch of surprises, and Silver did enjoy the orchestra of his astonished grunts and contented hums even more than his own meal.

They had not copied enough money to buy dessert, but with his belly full and his body warm from toes to fingertips, Silver was in a good mood and had stopped worrying about the potential illegality of his wishes. A few words to make a little more money? Where was the harm in that?

So they ended up sharing a huge plate of tartufo, accompanied by two cups of espresso and a glass of grappa each. They hadn’t really talked much over lunch, too occupied with eating to use their mouths for other things. But now towards the end of their meal the silence began to register. Most of the other customers had left and the waiter was nowhere in sight. Silver’s gaze wandered over the empty tables and the black-and-white pictures on the red-brick wall behind Flint’s head, and finally settled on the man’s face.

Flint’s own eyes were fixed on his fingers that were toying with the tiny spoon next to his coffee. His lips were slightly blue from the wine and tilted upwards at the corners; like in this exact moment everything was right with the world. Silver felt the sudden need to explore their taste and texture.

That was when a certain change caught his eye. It was not very obvious, nor particularly significant; just the sudden absence of that single freckle at the corner of Flint’s mouth. Mesmerised by his discovery, Silver leaned over the table to have a closer look. Granted, the light in the restaurant was not the best, but even when Flint turned his head to the light, fazed by Silver’s behaviour, he was unable to find the pale amber spot between the stubble.

„Huh“, he said. „It’s gone.“

Flint was obviously not surprised. He fixed his attention back on his coffee, took a breath and said: „You noticed that they’re disappearing.“

„Hold on, are you telling me, this is normal? Is this … Do they … Are your freckles related to your magic?“ At the last word Silver lowered his voice to a whisper even though no one was around to overhear. „So, every time I speak a wish- ?“

„One of them dissolves, yes. Sometimes a whole bunch, depending on the amount of energy the wish consumes.“

„That’s unfair“, Silver all but whined, feeling irrationally upset about it. „I mean … I like them a lot.“

Flint raised an eyebrow. „You do?“

Silver was exceptionally glad his beard hid most of the blood rushing into his cheeks. „It’s just hard to imagine you without them, is all.“

„Sure“, Flint said with a mocking twitch of his mouth. His gaze slipped down for the tiniest of moments. Silver almost missed it, but he could’ve sworn he’d felt the longing presence of these green orbs on his own bitten lips.

„Yesterday you asked me if there was a limit to my power?“, Flint said in a questioning tone, waiting for Silver’s silent nod before continuing: „Well, that’s what my answer meant. The limit is reached when all whishing dots are gone, but I don’t know how many I got on my body. I never counted.“

„I can see why not“, Silver chuckled. „There must be thousands of them. It’s almost like looking up into a night sky.“

Now it was Flint’s turn to blush, his fair complexion doing a far worse job in hiding the colour than Silver’s tanned skin. And wasn’t it the strangest thing, seeing a genie blush? „Maybe not thousands“, he replied. „But they’ll last for that leg of yours, and a few other things as well.“

That was it. Enough pining for one day. Silver wasn’t sure when his arm had decided to act without his consent, but he reached over the table and let his palm rest over Flint’s hand, stopping his fingers from fidgeting. „My wishes are the last thing on my mind right now“, he said while shifting his chair closer to Flint. „Can I ask you something?“

Flint just nodded, watching him intently. He‘d made no move to pull his hand away, yet. 

„What is _your_ wish, James? Right now, in this moment, what do _you_ long for? And …“, he paused, breaking their eye contact for a second to gather courage. „Might I be capable of giving it to you?“

How often in the last two days – and was it still only two days? – had Silver imagined the taste of these lips on his tongue, of these fingers in his hair? How was it possible for someone as untrusting and unloving as himself to fall for this mysterious being, this man, in a matter of hours?

The reality of their kiss was much like he’d visualised, and also much more. More intense, more aggressive, but also more vulnerable than he remembered kisses to be. It didn’t last long, their tongues barely touching, and yet it felt as if, affected by the touch of Flint’s lips, something hard and fossilised inside of him had suddenly cracked.

When they broke the kiss, their faces stayed close enough to share breath. There was only a thin ring of green left in Flint’s eyes, supplanted by his widely dilated pupils. „You sly bastard!“, he gently accused. „How did you know …?“

„That you like men?“, Silver asked. „Experience. You're not that subtle, you know? That you like _me_?“ He shrugged. „I took a chance.“

Suddenly Flint seemed to remember where they were, and the realization made him retreat like a clam into its shielding shell. Silver realized with a start he’d missed out on the whole 20th century; on Christopher Street Day, pride flags and the LGBT movement. He hurried to put a soothing hand on Flint’s shoulder. „It’s alright. There’s no need to hide. Most people don’t mind nowadays.

Flint frowned. „You’re kidding me.“

„Definitely not“, he answered, a little bit unsettled by Flint‘s dumbstruck expression. The man looked as if he would either burst a blood vessel, or do a runner, so Silver was more than baffled when his genie without any warning broke out into hysterical laughter.

Silver could do nothing but grin along with him while waiting for his fit to end. When Flint was done, he gave him a glass of water from the table and said: „I know it must be somewhat of a shock. What can I say? You missed out on some pretty interesting things in the last hundred years.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so slow going! I'm sorry. But for the boys it's only day 2. ^^


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Between the wish and the thing life lies waiting. (Proverb)

„John … John? … JOHN! … Earth to John Silver!!“

Randall’s efforts to get his employee’s attention finally bore fruits. Silver snapped out of his reverie, realising he had not only filled the food bowl to the brim but also littered the ground around it with grain feed.

„Are ya feeling alright?“, Randall, who had been busy doing accounts a few moments ago, asked from behind the counter.

„Sure“, Silver retorted while he tried to stuff the grain feed back into its carton. „Why wouldn’t I?“

Randall sardonically raised a brow. „Because you either have something heavy on your mind, or you’re tryin‘ to kill my chinchillas by overfeeding them.“

Silver swallowed guiltily. „Sorry.“

„Never mind“, Randall said. „Just try and get your act together until after work. Got it?“

„Got it.“

„By the way“, Randall continued after a while. „Have ye done anything to the Captain? His temper seems somewhat … less foul since I’ve hired you. Hasn’t bitten me in a week.“

Silver did his best to look puzzled. „D-does it?“

Thankfully, Randall wasn’t paying him any attention while he mused: „When I think about it, his curses have lost much of their acridity to, lately.“

„Have they?“, Silver asked evasively.

Randall was shaking his head, deep in thought, and murmured: „I guess he’s just gettin‘ old. He does have an unnaturally long lifespan that bird, even for a parrot.“

Silver did a reasonably good job of stopping an uncontrolled snicker from bursting out of his mouth while he put the chinchilla food back into the closet and took out a bag of fresh hay for the guinea pigs. During the last week he had been able to convince Randall of his competence in so far as he was now responsible not only for the cleanliness of the floor, but also for the creature comforts of Randall’s animals. This meant he now had a full day of work instead of only a few hours.

Everyday around six, Flint would come and pick him up to walk home. Were his genie spent his free time during the day, Silver did not know and never asked. Things had grown a bit awkward between them since Silver had turned their cordial lunch into a date. For the last days Flint had seemed a little distant. Not that he was unfriendly or cold towards him, but there had been no opportunity to repeat the kiss or talk about it, and Silver couldn’t suppress the feeling that Flint actively tried to avoid the topic.

Silver guessed the reason had nothing to do with himself and everything with the shock a semi-public outing had on a 17th century mindset. At least he _hoped_ it had nothing to do with him.

Silver did not look up from filling his furry clients‘ empty manger when he heard the bell jingle. Customer service was not yet part of his duties. But he couldn’t help a curious glance as he recognised obvious suspicion in Randall’s voice when he asked: „Can I help you, Sir?“

The newcomer was a scrawny young guy, almost a kid, with a runny nose and bleary restless eyes that spoke of some kind of drug addiction. Silver tensed. He’d become acquainted with a few junkies over time; most of them were harmless when under the influence. When their supply was at its end though? Not so much.

The boy shakily wiped his nose on the cuff of his worn hoodie and pulled something out of the pouch pocket. „H-hands up!“

The young robber had not yet realised Silver’s presence in the shop; his concentration was fully focussed on Randall. Silver took this to his advantage and ducked behind the cages, thankful for the massive wooden furniture they rested upon.

„All right“, Silver heard Randall say in a decidedly calm tone.

„S-shut the fuck up! Money on the table, or else!“

Silver considered what to do now, frantically cursing his lack of a mobile. The only means to call the police was the fixed phone on the counter. His best chance was the exit; once outside he could cry for help. What would happen to Randall though? His efforts to talk the fellow down didn’t seem to do any good so far.

But that didn’t matter now anyway, because he couldn’t see shit from his current position. Making as little noise as possible, Silver got on hands and knees and crept to the end of the row of cages. He briefly thought about ditching his crutch but then changed his mind. If the guy noticed him after all, he would be faster with it.

Now he could see Randall, who was emptying the till with careful, slow movements as not to alarm the nervous robber. A gun was pointed at his head, although the arm holding it was shaking badly, the kid‘s aim anything but sure. Silver wondered if it was even a real gun but lacked the expertise to tell for certain.

Again Silver checked the exit. He couldn’t see any passers-by that could’ve helped him. When he turned back to the scene at the counter, Randall was looking straight at him for a second, making a tiny eye-movement in the direction of the door as if telling him to save his hide. Silver bid his lip, cursing the damn bell over the door which was bound to draw the robber’s attention.

Silver took a good look at the kid. He was standing right in front of Silver’s hide-out now, close enough even to smell his cold sweat. If Silver would‘ve taken a swing with the crutch, he may’ve been able to knock the gun out of his hand.

Silver willed his heart to stop hammering and made a decision. Catching Randall’s gaze again, he shook his head vehemently and slowly stood up. The fingers of his right hand clinging to the cage’s bars, Silver raised the crutch with his left. Before he could use it though, several things were happening simultaneously.

Betsy, who had been asleep on the floor at Randall’s feet, jumped onto the counter. The young robber, startled by this sudden movement, took a step back, causing him to stumble over his own feet and loose balance as well as his grip on the gun. A shot rang out when it hit the floor. Silver’s crutch, originally aimed for the kid’s arm, collided with his neck instead.

After the noise of this chaotic episode had subsided, a dreadful silence fell over the little shop. Silver stood still like a salt pillar for a few seconds, staring at the crutch in his hand as if wondering how it got there. Where it had impacted with the kid’s body, the aluminium was bent and battered; he’d have to wish it back to normal when Flint came to fetch him.

The robber was out cold on the floor, and no wonder! That blow must have hurt like hell.

Silver let out a wobbly sigh, before he turned to Randall. All witty remarks in the line of „stupid boy came with a gun to a crutch fight“ died on his lips, when he became aware of the blood. Randall just barely braced himself on the counter while his other hand was pressed against his middle in a futile effort to staunch the pulsing gush.

„Silver …“, he said once in an awfully feeble voice, before collapsing like a puppet with broken strings.

  
***  


The house still looked the same from the outside. If not for the pompous neon sign on the façade claiming it to be a certain _Grand Hotel Palais_.

When he looked up from the busy street he could still make out the window of Thomas‘ study, Miranda’s favourite drawing room; the rooms where they had laughed and fought, and dined and fucked. All hosting strangers now; strangers not only to him but to each other as well. This place was no longer a home.

Under the watchful gaze of a liveried porter at the entrance, Flint turned away from the empty carcass of his former haven, and left without a backward glance.

With Silver working in the pet shop, Flint had found himself with a vast amount of leisure time at his hands. At a loss what to do with it, he had spent the last week searching for traces of the London he had known. It wasn’t the first time he did this, for even in the years of his imprisonment, stuck in various animal forms and locked up in one cage or another, he’d grasped at every opportunity to take a look at the world outside the bars. He had seen the changes in architecture, fashion and people; had witnessed ancient things fall while new ones arose among the rubble.

But the thing with animal forms was that they not only made it easier to hold his body captive. They also fettered the mind until all thoughts revolved around feeding and shelter; ration replaced by instinct, most memories of loved ones gone. 

So this was in a way his first chance in centuries to recapitulate, remember and grieve with a clear head.

On his way back through town, he wondered, not for the first time, what they would have made of this strange new era – how they would have thrived here – and cursed the unfairness of it all. Why was he the one to outlive centuries, revolutions and wars? Why he the one to experience this wondrous time when they had been so much more deserving?

Although Flint shied away from imagining either one of his lovers in his place, paying the price he had paid to gain this eternal existence. What was the point in immortality, when you were nothing but a tool, a slave; unable to share it with people you loved? If Flint was truly honest with himself, he couldn’t even picture the details of their faces anymore. What exactly had been the shade of Miranda’s hair, of Thomas‘ eyes? Instead he saw with gruelling clarity the face of every master he’d ever had; from Lord Mage Hamilton’s arrogant sneer to Dufresne’s nervously darting gaze.

An impatient driver honked at Flint when he suddenly stopped in the middle of a street, shaking his head like a dog to get rid of the images in his head. They were accompanied by other things too; mouldy vaults hidden under the finest mansions, shackles, rituals, cruel punishments … a kiss.

He faltered when the dark presence of his newest master shoved itself in front of the others; fell upon them like a moon shadow. Eclipsing all but the most recent memories.

„Nonsense“, Flint muttered under his breath while he retreated to the safety of the pavement, clearing the street for the automobiles and their outraged drivers. He tried to convince himself it didn’t matter. Silver may be the kindest master he’d ever had, but that didn’t alter the fact Flint was still obliged to do his bidding, still dependent on him despite the range of freedom he was granted.

Flint had not believed his own luck when he’d first realised how little understanding Silver had of the magical item in his possession. It had been a simple matter to convince him that the amulet’s destruction would lead to Flint‘s death, when in truth it would just render him mortal and end his servitude. All Flint had to do now was wait for the inevitable turn of events.

Wishing magic was a fickle business in which the mindset and imagination of the wisher had just as much impact as the wishmakers power. Eventually something would go wrong; like all the masters before him Silver would say the wrong words or think the wrong thoughts, and something or someone would get harmed. At that point his masters would usually try to get rid of the problem by turning him into the most benign beast they could think of. Flint was still fond of the memory how he had taught Dufresne a thing or two about the benignancy of parrots.

But Silver was no sorcerer, had never heard of the House of Mages. He was like a child playing with a power he knew nothing about. And when Flint’s initial plan finally came to pass and things turned sour, Silver would quite likely try the most obvious solution and destroy the amulet.

Never before had he been this close to gaining back his freedom. He couldn’t very well let such an opportunity go to waste just because he was falling for his oppressor, now could he?

Flint had to admit though that he found it difficult to see Silver’s attitude towards him under the light of oppression. Moreover, Flint’s resentment against his dependency dwindled with every day he spent in Silver’s company. The man was constantly emitting a certain brand of embitterment that blended harmoniously with his own sorrow.

A slightly nauseating feeling in the pit of his stomach caught Flint unawares. After a second he recognised it as the butterfly wings of affection and cursed heartily, which made an elderly lady next to him sputter in indignation.

 _Why does it have to be you?_ , he thought exasperated. _Why can’t it be some spoilt, rich, corrupt minger?_ No, of course it had to be a handsome lad with curls like swarthy sea waves and eyes to drown in, who was a tragic hero for good measure! Well, that was just his luck.

The minute he turned into Randall’s street, Flint was stopped in his tracks by a deafening bang from the direction of the pet shop that sounded almost like ...

„No“, he gasped, breaking into a run down the empty street.

The first thing he saw when entering the shop was a body sprawled on the floor and another one atop the counter. And blood. So much blood.

Flint’s initial panic subsided a bit after realising that none of the bodies belonged to Silver, but that left him wondering where the little shit might be. A whimpering sound from between the rows of cages gave him a pretty good clue. He found the man in question slumped down on the ground in a puddle of his own vomit. His heart made a most unwelcome leap at the sight while he hurried to his side.

„What happened?“, he demanded, relieved to see that Silver, though badly shaken, was not further harmed.

„I - I -“, Silver stammered. He was obviously still in shock. „I don’t … Randall! He’s … James, he’s _dead_!

Whereas Flint undoubtably was perplexed when the man’s arms closed around his neck like a vice, he was even more stunned by his own instinct to hug him back and keep him safe. The tremor in Silver‘s limbs was heavily transmitted to his own body, shaking up his bones and making his teeth rattle, while he held him as close as possible.

„He’s dead!“

„I know.“

„I – I did not want this! A shot rang out … it – it happened so fast! I couldn’t … But the damn cat! I hit him! I shouldn’t have -“

„Shh. I know.“ Flint rocked his body in an effort to comfort him, trying to make sense of Silver’s chaotic ramblings. From what he understood, the stranger had tried to rob them, things had gone south, and Randall had been shot by accident more than anything.

Silver shuddered in his arms. „We have to do something! Fetter him, or call the police. The guy’ll wake up anytime now!“

Flint cast a quick glance to the young man on the floor. His head was twisted in a most unnatural angle; eyes staring blindly at the ceiling. He briefly wondered what sort of weapon had done this, but a closer examination of Silver’s crutch, which was lying rather innocently beside him, left no doubt about that.

„Honey, he’s dead“, he explained as gently as possible. No use to sugar-coat it. „I think, you broke his neck.“

  
***  


Silver very much felt like throwing up again. _Broke his neck? How the fuck did_ that _happen?_ No, he’d _definitely_ not wanted this. 

A jolt of panic electrified his body, and he tried to free himself of Flint’s hug. „The shot! Somebody must’ve heard!“

Flint’s face twitched. „It _was_ pretty loud.“

Silver was tearing his hair in desperation. „The Met will be here any minute. When they find me here like this, I’ll go to the slammer! They’ll never believe me!“

„Calm down! Randall was killed by a bullet from his gun“, Flint reasoned. „You acted in self-defence.“

That, together with Flint’s calm voice, soothed Silver’s panicked mind enough that he could think clearly again. „Right. You’re right.“ He swallowed. „But they will ask questions. About my employment here. About _you_.“

They could hear distant sirens now, but even that didn’t seem to trouble Flint much. „Then we’ll give them the same story you told your friends. I’m just another homeless guy. No job, no papers. Nothing to look into.“

Suddenly there was much commotion in front of the shop. Blue lights danced over the cages and walls and Silver saw the silhouette of an armed constable squinting in through the door.

„Whoever is in there“, the policeman shouted. „Raise your hands and come out slowly!“

„Stay here“, Flint murmured to Silver, before he spoke in a louder voice: „I’m coming. We’re unarmed.“ He went to the door with hands held high and opened the door to let in two officers who immediately took in the carnage. They shared a knowing look with each other and one of them raised his radio to call for backup.

His colleague was the first to notice Silver. The man gave him the once-over, taking in the crutch, the missing leg and his deathly pale face, and lowered his gun. „Are you all right, Sir?“, he asked.

„Y-yes“, Silver forced out.

„It was an ambush“, Flint piped up unsolicited. „This guy over there came at them with a gun.“

„And you are?“, the constable demanded, slightly piqued by this interruption.

„Flint“, he answered. „James Flint.“

The policeman raised one brow, but made no comment. Instead he wrote down the name and turned to Silver next: „And your name?“

„John Silver, Sir.“

The other officer, who had ended his call in the meantime, let out a chortle. „Silver and Flint? Sounds like a second class cop show to me. Any other raw materials among your acquaintances? Copper and quartz, maybe?“

The next hour passed by in a hectic flurry of officers taking their fingerprints and paramedics offering them blankets. They were taken outside to clear the pet shop for the attentions of forensics and detectives. Silver endured it all with barely concealed repugnance; too much was he reminded of a similar encounter in the past. The only bright spot happened to be Flint who was never far from his side during it all, speaking calmly to the officers whenever Silver couldn’t; giving a level-headed testimony of his side of the events. And lying his head off when interrogated about his own background.

Silver’s heart sank when he noticed a middle-aged man in casual clothing coming their way. This had to be the detective in charge of their case. He was skimming trough a pile of papers, rubbing a hand across his overworked-looking face with a sigh.

„Now“, the man started when he had reached them. „I know, you must be as tired as I am, so let’s get this over with, shall we?“ He cleared his throat. „My name is Detective Foster. The constable already provided me your testimonies, so that’s settled. I just have a few additional questions.“

Silver and Flint nodded in unison.

„Uhm, let’s see … The shop’s under the name of a certain … Mr. John Silver.“ He glanced up from his paper to look at Silver. „Is that you?“

„Wh -? Ah … yes, that’s me“, he answered, hiding his confusion as best as possible. Flint next to him fidgeted restlessly.

„And the victim .. uhm, Mr. Randall … was your employee?“ Not waiting for an answer – which was for the best because Silver was dumbstruck anyway - the detective consulted his papers again. „Hm, no hiring contract. Cash-in-hand, then? Well, we’ll let that slide.” He winked at Silver in an understanding manner. „So, how was your relationship with him?“

„Uh – quite good“, Silver said. „We never had any quarrels.”

The man nodded along, scribbling something down in his notes. „Mhm, and was there any connection between you and the alleged offender?

„No. I’ve never seen him before.“

After a few more questions of the sort, the detective was satisfied. He handed Silver his card together with the papers he’d found in Randall’s office and took his leave with the usual warning not to leave town.

Still utterly perplexed by what had just occurred, Silver browsed the pages himself, searching for something that he knew had no business being there. Nevertheless, his name was all over it. And it was not only affecting the deed of ownership for the pet shop, but also for Randall’s little flat above it.

„It’s the wish, isn’t it?“, Silver asked as soon as he could control his voice again.

Flint didn’t even try to feign ignorance. „It has to be.“

Silver closed his eyes in agony. What had he _done_? „I just wanted a place to live. Now two people are dead.“

Flint remained silent, just reaching for Silver’s hand. Silver pulled away from him.

„I can’t! Not right now“, Silver said. „Randall was a decent guy, and now he’s dead because … because -“ He took a shaking breath, feeling anger rise in his chest. „Gosh, I wish I’d never met you!“

A second ticked away until Silver realised, what he had just said. And another one until Flint’s ongoing existence showed him that the carelessly uttered wish had not worked. Right now he wasn’t perfectly sure if it was relief or regret he felt.

Flint’s expression held all the emotion he was omitting from his now cold voice when he said: „I told you. Changing the past lies not within my field of application.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Copper and quartz?!" - Was it necessary to add an unprofessional asshole-cop OC just so I could make that godawful pun? Yes. Yes it was. :D I'm sorry!!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whishers were ever fools. (William Shakespeare)

In spite of everything that had occurred today, Silver was in awe when the lock to Randall’s front door actually surrendered to the key in his hand. It was an inconspicuous black door next to the shop entrance. Behind it lay a rather sombre staircase, one narrow flight of stairs leading down to the basement and another one up to the actual living space above the pet shop, which was secured by another door.

Betsy, who’d been nowhere to be found as long as the place was crawling with strangers, suddenly leaped past the two men blocking the doorway, ran up the steps and started meowing like a siren. This behaviour was completed by a bunch of new scratches in the already pretty mangled door, so Silver hurried up the steps to open it.

„At least one of us isn’t plagued by a guilty conscience“, he murmured while he followed the cat into the small kitchen to fill her empty bowl. He’d only been inside the flat once before to fetch some forgotten documents while Randall had been busy with a customer. It was a decent little place with a wood stove in the living room, some pots of herbs on the kitchen counter and even a bathtub. It may have been a bit outdated with its 70s wallpaper, the monstrous oak wall unit opposite the couch and the snot green toilet, but Silver was the last person to complain about such things.

He tensed when he felt Flint enter the kitchen. Silver had half expected the genie to leave after the awful thing he’d hurled at him in his fit of rage, but Flint had stayed. Now he stood there rather awkwardly, studying Randall’s cat related fridge magnets and blocking Silver’s way back into the hallway.

„Why are you still here“, Silver sighed. He had not meant it to sound so hostile, but the words were already out; no way to take them back now.

„John …“ Flint watched him out of plaintive eyes. Silver decidedly fixed his gaze on the happily munching Betsy.

„You’re in my way.“

For a moment it seemed as if Flint would refuse to step aside; Silver heard his intake of breath, then the long pause where words should’ve been, and finally a soft clap as he shut his mouth without making use of it. When Silver passed him, though, he murmured: „Because I’ve nowhere to go.“

Silver swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat while he made his way into the bathroom to wash off the grime.

  
***  


Flint helplessly watched as the bathroom door closed between him and Silver’s back and tried to suppress an unexpected jolt of terror. He should go. He was not wanted here anymore. He should give Silver the space he demanded and just leave, but somehow Flint wasn’t able to step away from that door. 

_What’s wrong with you!_ , he scolded himself. _You wanted him to see you as a threat, and now he does._

Indeed things had gone downhill just as he’d been expecting; just as he’d been _hoping_ for. Everything was going according to plan, so why did he feel like someone had just pulled the rug out from under him?

„I’m fucked“, he realised with a pang of the same fluttery feeling he’d experienced earlier that day, only now it was tinged with remorse.

Suddenly his whole plan to gain freedom had faded into the background, felt dispensable in the frigid light of Silver’s grief and anger. When he thought about it, he even was able to pinpoint the exact moment it all had evaporated.

„When that shot rang out, I thought you were dead“, he told the unpliable bathroom door. „For a moment there I thought I’d lost you too.“

  
***  


While the water was running into the tub, warming the room and painting the mirror with fleeting silhouettes of moisture, Silver sat on the closed lid of the toilet to shed his clothes. Soon he was completely naked and his crutch leaning against the sink cabinet; there remained only one more thing.

Silver’s hesitating fingers found the clasp of his necklace and unfastened it. Then the medallion was lying in his palm, still warm from his body and looking just as harmless as it had for the last decades.

His gaze fell on the crutch, swept over the battered spot right below the handle, and guilt pierced his stomach like a bullet. With this thing he’d killed that misfortunate boy; and Randall was dead as well. Both their blood was on his hands because of Flint’s magic. Wouldn’t it be the most fitting tool to end this whole cursed affair with? The medallion was a fragile thing … it wouldn’t require much strength to crush it.

Slowly Silver placed the locket on the dirt coloured tile floor and blindly grabbed the crutch.

„I thought you were dead … thought I’d lost you too.“

Caught in an act he’d not thought through, Silver stared at the door. As muffled as Flint’s voice had sounded through the wood, it had still carried a soft, broken tone Silver couldn’t possibly dismiss. He felt a sudden burning sensation right behind his eyeballs, a strangling feeling in his throat, and slung away the crutch. It hit the doorknob with its weak spot, right where Silver’s fatal punch had affected the metal, causing it to break in two. The useless pieces fell to the floor with noisy clatter and for a moment Silver was sure Flint would come looking for him, but the door remained closed.

  
***  


Silver left the bath an hour later than he had planned. The hot water, which had rendered his body nearly weightless and soothed his troubled mind, had just been too good to not relish to the fullest. He wasn’t sure when he’d last felt warm and clean through and through.

However, outside of the tub he was immediately hit by the cold air. When he remembered Flint, who was likely still sitting somewhere in the freezing flat, soaking in his own filth and misery, he couldn’t help but feel guilty for his prolonged occupation of the bathroom.

Silver towelled and clothed himself as fast as he could to keep as much of the heat as possible, before he finally reached down to pick up the medallion he’d left on the floor. After a quick look at the familiar ginger strand inside, he put it back around his neck, this act being accompanied by an unexpected and most irrational feeling of rightness.

The next thing he had to figure out was a way to get out of the bathroom without his crutch, and without calling for Flint, because that was an amount of humiliation he wasn’t ready to endure right now.

Luckily Randall’s flat was small enough that he constantly found some shelf, table or wall to lean on while he made his way over to the living room. The growing heat and homely crackle of burning wood told Silver that Flint had built a fire in the meantime. He might have been filthy and miserable, but at least he had not been freezing.

When Silver reached the doorway, he paused for a moment to take a look at the other man, who was currently sitting cross-legged on the couch, browsing some magazine on veterinary medicine Randall must’ve left there that morning. The fingers of his left hand were buried in Betsy’s fur, which was rewarded with extensive purring. For a second Silver silently pondered on the possibility of the cat somehow recognising Flint from their longstanding coexistence down in the shop.

There was no way Flint could have missed his rather ungainly way of approach, but he refrained from looking up until Silver was right in front of him.

Avoiding his gaze, Silver cleared his throat. „Bathroom is free.“

„Very well“, Flint muttered.

„Randall’s got a flow heater, so there should still be enough warm water left“, Silver rambled, once again wondering if Flint even got his meaning. „How long ago was your last bath anyway?

Flint grinned; not the venturous shark grin that went straight through Silver’s heart every time, but a softer version. „You wouldn’t want to know.“

Silver smiled weakly and took a step further in his direction, clinging to Randall’s old tube TV.

„By the way“, Flint said while he watched his progress. „I was searching your dead friend’s belongings. He got a spare leg lying around in his closet. Not your size, I reckon, but I also found this.“

Careful not to disturb the cat, he reached down and held up a crutch very similar to Silver’s old one, except this one had apparently seen far less use. Before Flint could think about standing up, Silver had hopped the last few steps and accepted it from him.

„I figured you wouldn’t be keen on exerting any magic at the moment“, Flint added with a rueful little smile.

„Thank you“, Silver said, keeping his hands and eyes busy by adjusting the new crutch. When he was finally satisfied with its height, he sat on the couch next to Flint. It wasn’t a very big couch; they could have easily touched, but both of them took great care to keep to themselves.

„You must’ve heard me hopping around“, Silver mused after a while, turning his head in Flint’s direction with an accusing glint in his eyes. „Why did you not bring the crutch to me?“

Flint shrugged as if the answer were more than obvious, and pointed to his lap. „Cat was sleeping.“

Silver stared at him for a second, before bursting into laughter. It fizzled out, though, as the sight of Betsy soon brought back memories of her former owner. Flint sensed his change of mood immediately, a little frown forming between his eyes.

Silver sobered and shook his head. „I was so mad at you.“

Flint raised an eyebrow. „‘Was’?“

Silver ignored his comment, looking down on his own knotted fingers, while trying to explain. „Right now, I’m not sure if I had any right to be.“

Flint’s answer was barely perceptible: „You had every right.“

Silver chuckled darkly. „Did I? Because the more I think about it, the more I notice my own fault in it.“

Flint shook his head. „You couldn’t have known how the whole thing would work out. Besides, if it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have made that particular wish in the first place.“

„Doesn’t matter“, Silver said. „I was the one who took out that kid. Not you. Not the wish. Just me.“ He swallowed hard. „I’m a murderer.“

There was severe objection in Flint’s eyes when they met Silver’s own stubborn gaze. „You just tried to save your friend!“

„And a lot of good it did him, huh?“, Silver said with a laugh that held no joy at all.

A sudden stifled growl made him look up at Flint whose jaw was clenched, left hand curled into a trembling fist. Silver held his breath, and for a second felt like a deer caught in the headlights, but then he noticed Flint’s other hand which was still resting around the cat’s scruff in a most tenderly fashion. The icy layer of resentment and compunction around his heart melted a little bit.

„John.“ His name burst forward from Flint’s lips like the lid from an overboiling kettle; like something had been festering inside him for some time now and was pushing to the surface. He took a slow breath before continuing, so the next sentences came out much more restrained: „You don’t know half of it yet. My responsibility in this reaches deeper than you’re anticipating.“

As soon as Silver had digested these words, they settled heavy as stone in his stomach. Slowly he leaned away from Flint as he would have from a poisonous snake. „Explain yourself.“

Flint acknowledged his retreat with a twitch of his fingers as if he willed them not reach out for him. „From the day I met you, it was my intention to- “

„Your _intention_?“, Silver couldn’t help but interrupt. „Are you saying you _wanted_ this to happen?“

Flint sighed. „I am guilty of encouraging you without ample warning. After centuries of watching men turning my powers into something malevolent, I have enough experience with my own magic on the one hand and human nature on the other to know that it never ends good.“

Flints eyes met Silver’s, and what he read in them was not the contrition he expected but a certain kind of defiant scorn one only ever saw in connection with injustice and oppression. With rebellion and resistance. 

„So yes. I expected something evil to happen. I could’ve advised you against it, but didn’t. And Randall’s death suited my plans just fine“, Flint told him. „But did I _want_ to harm him? Did I orchestrate it?“ He shook his head, and Silver thought his face showed at least a flicker of remorse now, but it could just as well have been a mere trick of the light. „I most certainly did not.“

Silver’s head was a pit of conflicting feelings. He guessed the disdain in Flint’s expression had not been aimed at him specifically. But wasn’t he just as bad as his countless predecessors? Hadn’t he used Flint as a ladder to climb out of the abyss? However, the other side of the coin was Randall’s death, and the fact that Flint had apparently let him walk right into an open blade. And, as if he wasn’t confused enough, the memory of their kiss shoved itself in front of all the other things on his mind.

Just like earlier in the bathroom, Silver’s throat was suddenly tightening up while a painful pressure formed behind his eyeballs. „I – I need …“ He needed to be alone more than anything right now. „I’m tired“, he rasped, blindly reaching for the new crutch. „Are you ok to sleep on the couch?“

Flint silently watched him stand, his fingers twitching so severely Betsy’s tail began to wag in a slightly irritated manner. Since Flint’s appearance, they had never spent a night apart, defying the biting frost by sharing warmth under the blankets. Silver imagined how empty and cold Randall’s bed must feel without someone else in there, but today’s events and confessions had built some kind of barrier between them; one he wasn’t sure how – or if – to tear down.

Without another glance at Flint, he crossed the living room and entered the adjoining bedroom. At the door he said. „Take a bath and everything you want from the kitchen. I’ll see you tomorrow.“

„Wait“, Flint called after him. „Aren’t you hungry too?“

Again Silver swallowed around the lump in his throat. „I’m … I’m afraid not. Good night, James.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A (very) late Happy New Year everyone! I posted two chapters this time to reward your patience ^^


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can’t cross the sea merely by standing and staring at the water. Don’t let yourself indulge in vain wishes. (Rabindranath Tagore)

The next few days went by in a haze. Because he had nothing better to do, Silver cleaned up the chaos in the shop, fed the animals like he would have done any other day, and opened for the customers. He felt like taking care of Randall’s business was the least he could do to honour his involuntary sacrifice.

Flint did his best to make himself useful, while at the same time trying to stay out of his way as much as possible. He tidied up the apartment and gathered every piece of paperwork he could find, carrying them down to the shop for Silver to look over.

Most of it was outdated by years anyway, but some things proved essential for their prolonged inhabitation of Randall’s former property. If they really wanted to make it their permanent abode and prevent any administrative interference, they desperately needed access to Randall’s – now Silver’s – bank account for one thing, and payment information on electricity, gas and water providers for another.

Silver was almost uncomfortable with the fact that he had not once contemplated to exclude Flint from this possible future. He imagined that a less broken individual as himself would have fled from this situation already. It might well have been better to raise his walls again, protect himself – and Flint as well – by shutting Flint out. All Silver knew for a fact was that this man - who had deceived him and made a killer, if not a murderer, out of him - was the first and only person in his life he did not _want_ to shut out. So their plans for the future had remained _their_ plans despite everything.

____

____

_____ _

Silver had no idea what Randall’s password might have been, but he guessed the wish must have allowed for such a case, so he typed some random stuff and wasn’t even surprised anymore when it actually worked. The surprise came afterwards, though, when he saw the number gleaming back at him from the screen and thought he might suffer a heart attack.

„What’s the matter“, Flint demanded as he came running from the office, which he had been rummaging about for the last hour. Silver’s strangled outcry must have alarmed him to a great deal, because he was holding the water kettle above his head like a war hammer.

„No- nothing“, Silver immediately appeased. „Just - _look_ at all that money!“

Flint stood behind him, looking over Silver’s shoulder. He just humphed approvingly, a sound that pulsated through Silver’s body like electricity.

„I never thought- “ he said, trying to concentrate on the matter at hand. „I mean … he was living like _this _when he could have- “ The possibilities were piling up in his brain.__

____

Flint shrugged. „Guess he was happy with _this _then.“__

_____ _

But Silver was still not over it. „That bastard could’ve paid me triple my wage!“

______  
***  


They continued to sleep separately, but their daily interactions soon gained back quite a bit of their former familiarity. They talked, ate and even laughed together just as before, although they were still shying away from each other’s touch.

_____ _

It was approximately two weeks after the incident when a call from Detective Foster let Silver know that his case was closed, and Randall’s body had been cleared for transfer to an undertaker of his choice. Since there were no other relatives, Silver had felt obligated to take charge of the funeral personally.

_____ _

The ceremony was a quick and silent affair, Flint and Silver being the only two mourners present. After the orator had finished his business and the coffin had been lowered into the ground, they both took a moment to stand side by side and gaze down into that gaping hole, whose appearance wasn’t made any less sinister by the grass-green felt lining surrounding it.

_____ _

„This is the first funeral I ever attended“, Silver realised.

_____ _

„Not for me“, Flint noted, scooping up a shovelful of earth to drop into the grave. „My grandfather“, he replied to Silver’s questioning look. „Not the only loss in my life, but the only one who left a body to bury.“

_____ _

Silver nodded; that particular experience he was familiar with.

_____ _

As soon as they had left the cemetery, the heavy rain clouds overhead opened up, so Silver was glad for the big black umbrella Flint had found in Randall’s wardrobe. They decided to seek temporary refuge in a nearby pub where they were greeted by the comforting smells of ale and fried food.

_____ _

They chose a table in a corner, apart from the other customers, and ordered two pints of lager. 

_____ _

„Let’s drink to Randall“, Flint said, raising his glass. 

_____ _

„To Randall“, Silver answered.

_____ _

They clinked glasses and then fell into a somewhat melancholy but also comfortable silence, slowly working their way through two more pints without saying much. Silver already played with the thought of going home, when Flint suddenly broke the silence.

_____ _

„D’you think we can ever go back?“

_____ _

Silver frowned. „What do you mean?“

_____ _

Flint looked up from his beer. „Back to how things were before, I mean.“ When Silver remained silent, he continued: „I’m sorry. I think, I never said it.“

_____ _

„I know“, Silver replied with feigned certainty, and thought: _At least I know now._ „And I’m sorry for using your power like your other masters did.“ 

_____ _

„What?“ Flint looked up sharply, perplexity written all over his face. „There’s no need for you to – You’re _nothing_ like them! John, you constantly asked my _permission_ You’ve treated me with nothing but respect and kindness.“ He swallowed. „And I repaid you by leading you astray.“

_____ _

Silver was at a loss for words for a second. Then he chuckled sadly. „I was on the verge of killing you the other day, you know that?“

_____ _

„No, you weren’t“, Flint told him with more conviction than Silver would have expected after such a confession.

_____ _

„I _was_ “, he reaffirmed. „I had the magic locket with your hair inside on the bathroom floor and was about to crush it.“

_____ _

„I believe you“, Flint said with a nod. „I was the one telling you it would work that way.“

_____ _

Silver stared at him with his mouth open for some time. „You lied!“

_____ _

„What did you expect?“, Flint asked. „We only knew each other for a few hours.“

_____ _

„And later?“, Silver demanded. „What about after you knew me, my life story – and my mouth, I might add – inside out?“ Flint smiled at that, but Silver ignored it. „Because one thing I still don’t get is the Why. What was your benefit from my wishes going bad?“

_____ _

Flint let out a long exhausted sigh. „I think it’s time to give you an insight into my own life story. Let’s begin with that locket, shall we?“

_____ _

Silver nodded.

_____ _

„It was made using my hair and blood“, Flint began, „forged under the strongest binding spells Lord Mage Hamilton could contrive.“ The name conveyed nothing to Silver, but the way it dripped from Flint’s lips like acid did not escape him. „This little thing may not be the means to kill me like I led you to believe, but my life is bound to it nonetheless. It is the collar around my neck. The chain that binds me. The leash that ties a dog to its master, for nothing else have I been to the long line of mages who owned me: A dog.“ His gaze suddenly lanced Silver like an iron rod. „Am I a dog to you, John?“

_____ _

„No“, Silver all but breathed.

_____ _

Flint nodded, his eyes growing soft, the iron rod slowly turning into a sweet poisoned arrow. „For the last three hundred years I’ve tried to get rid of these shackles, but the mages who kept me were always to careful, too mighty to overcome. They locked me up and banned me inside harmless creatures like mice, sparrows or fish, making my imprisonment easier to uphold. The centuries flew by, and my hope for freedom dwindled until Dufresne, who was my master’s apprentice at the time, made the fatal mistake to steal me for his own purposes.“

_____ _

As always when Flint mentioned this long dead man, his face was a show of utter contempt. „Whishing magic has one major drawback, and that is its unpredictability – as I’m sure you’ve learned by now. Dufresne wasn’t intelligent enough to realize that until it was too late.“

_____ _

„What had happened?“, Silver asked, curious to hear if the stupidity of his infamous forerunner was matching his own.

_____ _

Flint thought about it for a moment. „If I’m recalling it correctly, he was nursing a grudge against this White Chapel prostitute who’d ripped him off once. So he wished her to hell, and … well … that’s what she got, judging by the look of her corpse at least. The problem was, it also affected some other women Dufresne wasn’t aiming for.“

_____ _

Silver stopped breathing for a second. „Wait a second – White Chapel? Are you telling me … Dufresne - _your _Dufresne - was responsible for Jack the Ripper? Your just pulling my leg now!“__

_______ _ _ _

Flint eyed him grumpily. „He’s not _my _Dufresne. And yes, I think that was the name the papers gave the killer afterwards. The point is, the sleazy bastard lost his rag when he realized what he had done. He turned me into a parrot and sold me. After that, everything becomes hazy. Animal brains are not capable of holding human memories very well, but some thoughts were clearer than others, and I knew that without the medallion my hopes of ever recovering my true form were sinking rapidly.__

_________ _ _ _ _ _

Flint took a sip of his drink. „And then you came along; the fucking thing dangling from your neck right in front of me. You can’t imagine my elation when I realised how clueless you were! An outsider to the world of magic who probably wouldn’t question any explanation I provided.“

_________ _ _ _ _ _

Flint paused to look at Silver apologetically. „After all this time spent in servitude, at last there was a silver lining forming on the horizon. I just _had _to take this opportunity and exploit your ignorance. My other masters knew better than to destroy the medallion, because they knew the truth: It wouldn’t have ended my life but rather their power over me. If it were gone, I’d finally be free.“__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

„So, if the medallion can’t kill you“, Silver mused. „You’re just … what … invincible … immortal?“

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

An ominous, little smile appeared on the genie’s face. „You still remember what I told you about my freckles, do you?“

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

„That your power is linked to them and will be depleted as soon as all of them are gone? Of course I do.“ Silver felt his gut churning. „What happens to _you_ when your power’s gone?“

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

„Your face tells me you already have an inkling.“ Flint’s amused expression stood in stark contrast to the things coming out of his mouth. „Every wish renders me weaker and weaker until eventually … well, you get the idea.“

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

„But that’s terrible“, Silver exclaimed. „Why on earth didn’t you tell me?“

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

„Because there was no reason for concern yet“, Flint answered unfazed. „As of yet, your wishes have consumed but a mere fraction of my strength. Some clothes and coins, a parrot and shelter?“ He chuckled warmly. „If you knew what outrageously stupid shit other people asked me for!“

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Silver frowned, a sudden streak of protectiveness settling over him. „How are you even still alive? After all this time, shouldn’t your power be drained already?“

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

„I came close a few times“, Flint admitted to Silver’s horror. „Fortunately, it can regenerate. Rather slowly – and when I say slowly, I mean one-freckle-per-year-slowly – but still …“

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Silver shook his head, slowly digesting everything Flint had told him. There was still one thing he was curious about. „May I ask how you ended up in the mages’ claws in the first place?“

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

„As I said before, it was the leader of their order who forged the talisman to enslave me“, Flint explained, his face darkening once more. „He calls himself the Lord Mage, the highest member of the House of Mages. Back then his name was Hamilton, but I’ve seen a whole bunch of them over the years, and most of them were rotten to the core.“ He took another sip of beer to wet his throat. „I was an officer in the Royal Navy at the time, and one day Lord Hamilton’s son Thomas approached me. He needed my expertise regarding some plans he had for the West Indies, and in the course thereof he and his wife Miranda happened to … well … take a liking in me.“

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Silver raised both eyebrows, inwardly amused about the colour rising in Flint’s cheeks. „He _and_ his wife? Both? At the same time?“

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Flint cleared his throat, looking anywhere but at Silver. „Sometimes.“

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

„I wouldn’t have figured you as the type for a threesome“, Silver said, grinning mercilessly.

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

The blush had reached Flint’s now frowning brow. „If that’s what you young folks call it.“

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

„How was it?“, Silver couldn’t help but ask. Flint’s reaction, however, knocked all mirth out of him in an instant. His eyes had grown distant and glistened wet like the sea they got their colour from. Silver could have slapped himself. What the hell had he expected from this story? A fucking happily-ever-after?

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

When Flint had regained his composure, he simply stated: „It was love.“

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Silver’s heart grew three sizes, which did nothing to quench his guilt. „Forgive me. I shouldn’t have- “

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

„No, please“, Flint reassured him. „I kind of enjoyed talking about them. I haven’t done so in centuries.“

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Glad that no offence had been taken, Silver returned his smile cautiously.

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

„As you can imagine, the rest of the story is not very pretty“, Flint continued. „Thomas' father, the Lord Mage, wasn’t too happy about his son and daughter-in-law’s escapades. Then he somehow got wind of my abilities and used them as a decoy to lure me into his trap.“

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Anticipating the worst, Silver softly asked: „What happened to them?“

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

„He disinherited Thomas; cut him off from the family“, Flint told him. „As far as I know, he told them I had died. Thomas actually made it to the West Indies after that, and became a pirate. The last thing I heard from him was that he was captain of his own ship and spreading fear throughout the Caribbean. I still don’t know what happened to Miranda, though.“ 

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

A notorious pirate captain by the name of Hamilton. That _did_ ring a bell, although Silver wasn’t sure where he had heard – or maybe read – that name. „I don’t know what to say.“

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Flint grimaced, clutching his beer pint in a death grip. „Can you understand why I did what I did now?“

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Silver reached out to engulf his genie’s cramped fingers with his own hands. „I do.“ His gaze wandered upwards until it caught on Flint’s lips. „Let’s head home.“

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Flint’s face drew closer as he whispered: „If that means I get to kiss you again.“

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

There lips touched, and Silver’s mouth opened without a second thought. 

__________________  
***  


Mayor Rogers was in the middle of a hurried lunch, wedged in between his morning meeting and the mall opening at one o’clock, when the phone on his desk suddenly and most inconveniently rang.

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

„Yes?“, he demanded rather brusquely, expecting to hear the overly cheerful tone of his secretary. Didn’t he tell her not to disturb him? However, the male voice that answered him didn’t belong to her.

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

„Mayor?“

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

„Commissioner Berringer. What is it?“

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

„We found another tree without roots."

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

That got Rogers‘ attention. „Are you sure?“

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

„Absolutely. No papers, no past, nor any connections except his current flatmate, a certain John Silver.“

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

„And it’s definitely not just another illegal immigrant this time?“, Rogers asked, trying to mask his excitement.

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

„It’s not very likely. I have his picture here, and I can guarantee you, he’s as much Syrian as I am.

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Rogers nodded. „Good. Send me the details immediately. And Berringer?“

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

„Yes, Sir?“

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

„This _must_ remain between us, is that clear?“

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

„Of course, Sir. No one will hear about it.“

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expect smut the next time!


End file.
